The Things We Do for Love
by PrettyPoppy
Summary: After surviving the collapse of the Red Keep, Jaime Lannister narrowly escapes King's Landing with his life. Months later, he returns to find that Brienne has become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. When Tyrion appoints Jaime as Master of War, he and Brienne have no choice but to work together, even though Brienne is still heartbroken over Jaime's betrayal.
1. Prologue

Title: The Things We Do for Love

Author: PrettyPoppy

Summary: After surviving the collapse of the Red Keep, Jaime Lannister narrowly escapes King's Landing with his life. Months later, he returns to find that Brienne has become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. When Tyrion appoints Jaime as Master of War, he and Brienne have no choice but to work together, even though Brienne is still heartbroken over Jaime's betrayal.

Author's Notes: This story is very much a work-in-progress, which means updates may be slow. I intend to stay as close to canon as possible while still salvaging Jaime's character. Even now, I refuse to believe that Jaime left Winterfell because he was in love with Cersei. After all, he didn't confess his love or try to kiss her while they stood there waiting to die.

Although Tyrion and Sansa will end up together in this fic, the entire thing will be told from Jaime and Brienne's POVs. So while there will be some Sanrion romance, it will all unfold in the background.

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Prologue

Jaime Lannister hovered somewhere between wake and sleep, the sound of distant sobbing clouding his mind like a hazy fog. His vision was dark, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to open his eyes. Every nerve in his body screamed with pain, but he could do nothing to alleviate the agony. He was certain he was dead, stranded somewhere between two of the Seven Hells, though which two, he couldn't quite imagine. An eternity of suffering and pain lay before him, and he knew he had earned every moment of it.

The sobbing grew closer, though it still seemed so distant that Jaime was sure he was imagining it. The sound was joined by a rhythmic _clack, clack, clack_, like bricks hitting stone, but it barely registered. The last thing Jaime remembered was being crushed beneath the walls of the Red Keep, his arms wrapped around his sister as they'd both fallen beneath the rubble.

The sobs got louder, the clacking sound closer. And then, a great weight was suddenly lifted off Jaime's chest, and he gasped for breath, filling his lungs as quickly as he could, choking on the very air he was so desperate to breathe.

"Oh, gods! You're alive!"

The voice was faint, far away, but Jaime recognized it as he would recognize no other.

Tyrion. It was Tyrion.

_Had Tyrion died too?_

The acrid sting of tears pricked the backs of Jaime's eyes at the thought that his little brother had died right along with him and Cersei. Tyrion had always been the best of them. If anyone had deserved to live, it was Tyrion. Jaime wished there was something he could do to save his little brother, but he knew it was already too late. There was nothing either of them could do now.

_Clackety, clackety, clack._ The sound of bricks hitting stone grew faster, more frenzied, more urgent.

Jaime tried to draw in another breath, and thankfully, this time, he didn't choke on it.

"Stay calm." Tyrion's voice sounded closer this time. "I'm going to get you out of there. Stay with me, Jaime. Please."

Jaime had no intention of going anywhere. He would do anything to see his brother again, anything in the world.

Jaime focused all his strength on trying to open his eyes. It was a fierce struggle, one he was sure he was going to lose, but eventually, he managed to crack open one eyelid and then the other.

Everything was dark for a moment, and Jaime thought, perhaps, he hadn't opened his eyes at all. But slowly, his vision came into focus, and he saw color and light and movement. There was definitely someone with him. Someone hovering above him, frantically pulling at the stones that were weighing him down. There was a beard and a scar and a pair of unforgettably soulful eyes focused on tearing the bricks away.

"Ty . . . Tyrion." The word ripped from Jaime's throat, weak and hoarse.

Tyrion tore his eyes from his work and stared at Jaime's face. "Yes, it's me," he said in a mad rush, his breath shallow, his eyes wild with alarm. "I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be all right."

"Cersei?" Jaime had to know. He had to know what had happened to her.

Tyrion just shook his head, and Jaime closed his eyes, a fresh wave of grief washing over him.

"Don't you dare die on me," Tyrion swore, his voice hard. "Cersei almost took you from me once. I'm not going to let her take you from me again."

Jaime forced his eyes open and looked up at his younger brother. Once Tyrion saw that Jaime's eyes were open, that he hadn't given up on getting out from beneath the rubble, he finally turned away and started working again.

One by one, he lifted the bricks from Jaime's body, tossing them aside as if they weighed nothing at all. All of a sudden, Tyrion had the strength of ten men, quickly plowing through the rubble and finally setting Jaime free.

The instant his work was done, Tyrion repositioned himself atop the pile of bricks and hunkered down close to Jaime so that he could help him sit up. It was difficult for Jaime to move. Every muscle in his body burned with pain, and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to do more than breathe.

But Tyrion slipped both his hands beneath Jaime's back and pushed him upright, helping him rise. Jaime swayed with the movement, closing his eyes against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn't until Tyrion demanded that he open his eyes again that Jaime even tried.

He forced his eyelids open and found himself sitting among the pile of rubble, Cersei's lifeless body lying beside him. For a moment, he couldn't see anything else around him except his sister's battered corpse.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. All of it. Winterfell, the Great War, the Night King.

Brienne.

Jaime had come to King's Landing intent on killing his sister, intent on atoning for his sins, and yet, in their final moments together, he'd been unable to end Cersei's life. It wasn't because he was in love with her, or because he hadn't overcome his feelings for her, but because she was his sister, and in that way, he still loved her. As they'd stood there, waiting to be crushed by the crumbling walls of the Red Keep, Jaime had chosen to show her mercy instead of cruelty. Cersei was the cruel one, but Jaime had risen above such things long ago. He had done what he'd thought was right in those final moments, performing one last act of mercy as he'd prepared to forfeit his life.

"She's gone," Tyrion said as Jaime continued to stare at Cersei's body, her skin already a deadly shade of blue. "I'm sorry."

Jaime shook his head, the movement almost making the world go dark around him. He closed his eyes before turning his head in Tyrion's direction. Only then, did he open them again, afraid that even the slightest movement might make him collapse. "Don't be sorry," Jaime rasped, his throat so dry that it hurt to speak. "She brought this on herself. If it wasn't the Dragon Queen, it would have been me."

Tyrion's eyes narrowed on Jaime. "What do you mean? I thought you and Cersei were going to escape. You swore to me you were going to escape."

"And you swore that you were going to be loyal to your queen. We all tell lies when we have to, don't we?"

"You came here to kill her?"

"I had to. I thought it was the only way, that I was the only one who could get close enough to her to do it. Tell me, Tyrion, am I really alive?"

Tyrion's eyes drifted down the length of Jaime's body, stopping when they reached his injured flank. Jaime had completely forgotten about being stabbed by Euron Greyjoy. He'd been certain that the wound was going to kill him, but obviously, it hadn't been as bad as he'd first thought.

Tyrion inhaled a sharp breath as he examined Jaime's side. "From the look of that wound, I'd say, just barely."

"But I am alive?"

Tyrion nodded. "You are. But I don't know how long that will be true."

A flush of cold dread washed down Jaime's spine, and the blood rushed faster in his veins. A moment earlier, he'd thought himself dead and had feared nothing, but now that he knew he was alive, he was terrified of dying. "Is it that bad?"

Tyrion finally looked up at him again. "What? The wound?"

"Yes."

"No, I don't think so. The bleeding has stopped, and if it hasn't killed you already, I doubt it's going to kill you now. But you will need a good maester to sew you up before infection sets in. Though a good maester is going to be pretty hard to come by now."

"Why?"

"Why? Because Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains, has burned down all of King's Landing and nearly every last man, woman, and child within it."

"What?" Jaime was certain he'd misheard.

"The bells," Tyrion said, dragging his eyes away from Jaime's, seemingly lost in his own disturbing memories. "The bells, they rang for the city's surrender. They rang, and she attacked anyway. Killed innocents. Destroyed the city. Went mad . . . like her father."

Jaime just stared at Tyrion in silent disbelief. After everything Jaime had done to protect the people of King's Landing – killing the mad king, spending a lifetime being called Kingslayer – he couldn't believe it had come to this. "How?"

"I . . . I don't know. I thought she was better than that. I staked my life on it. And now, I'm going to lose my life, and so will you, if you don't escape King's Landing before her men find you."

Jaime shook his head, and a spike of pain pierced his skull, but he did his best to ignore it, determined to get through to Tyrion before it was too late. "I'm not leaving without you," Jaime said, struggling to force some strength into his voice.

Tyrion looked up at his brother again. "I can't leave. I am Daenerys' Hand, and I betrayed her. I knew what I was doing when I set you free, and I will live – or die," he said with a cynical laugh, "with the consequences."

"She will kill you."

"And don't I know it? But I have to do what's right. And you have to get the hell out of here before anyone finds you, before you succumb to your wounds."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

Tyrion was silent for a moment, as if he was struggling to answer. Finally, he said, "The boat . . . the boat I arranged for you and Cersei should still be there. The tunnel might be blocked, but we'll find another way to get you to it. Take the boat. Take it to Pentos. If you don't think you can get that far, take it up the coast. Take it anywhere you can without being found. You need to find a maester before it's too late. You need to get well so you can live your life, so there will be at least one Lannister left in the world when this nightmare is over."

Jaime tried to laugh, but his entire body ached with the effort. "What does it matter if there are any Lannisters left in this world? We're all worthless wretches. Maybe I should just lay down and die right here."

"Don't you fucking dare," Tyrion warned, his voice hard. "I want you to live. I need you to live. Do you understand me? Someone has to make it out of this alive, and you have a chance. Everyone thinks you're already dead. I'm sure of it. This is your chance. Get out now, Jaime. Please," Tyrion said, the word nearly a sob.

"All right, I'll go. But—"

"I can't come with you. Don't even ask."

"If I recover, where am I to even go?"

"Go back to Winterfell. Go back to the woman you love, while you still can."

Jaime just stared at Tyrion, unable to speak. He didn't know how to answer. Finally, he said the only thing he could say, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because she hates me, and rightfully so."

"I wish I knew Ser Brienne well enough to know whether or not that's true, but I don't. All I can say is, if I was given a second chance to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love, I would take it in a heartbeat. Fuck duty, fuck honor. I would run to her as fast as my stunted legs could carry me, and I would never look back."

Jaime was stunned by Tyrion's words, not because he was surprised that Tyrion was encouraging him to return to Brienne, but because Tyrion sounded like he himself was very much in love, something Jaime had never expected. Was it Daenerys Targaryen, he wondered. Was she the woman who had stolen his brother's heart? Was that why Tyrion felt compelled to stay and suffer her wrath? Because he loved her?

"Who?" Jaime asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Who? I'm afraid I don't understand the question."

"Who is she? The woman you're in love with?"

Tyrion pulled his eyes away from his brother and hunkered down closer to Jaime's side, staring at his open wound. "You know, maybe if I could get something to clean this with, I could tend to it myself."

"Who is she, Tyrion? You've never been a coward. Just tell me."

Tyrion plopped down onto his backside, finally sitting among the rubble. He looked up at Jaime in defeat. "You'll think I'm an idiot."

"I already think you're an idiot. Who is she?"

Tyrion looked away again, but only for a moment. When his eyes met Jaime's once more, he said, "Sansa Stark."

A broad smile spread across Jaime's face. "I should have known."

"Well, can you blame me, really? She's smart, she's clever, she's beautiful."

"She used to be your wife."

"Yes, there is that. I wish she was still my wife. There was a time when I really thought I could make her happy. And then, that night in the crypts—"

Jaime raised a brow in question. "What happened that night in the crypts?"

"Oh, nothing untoward," Tyrion reassured him. "But when I told her that maybe we should have stayed married, she said it wouldn't have worked between us because of my divided loyalties. Not because I'm a dwarf. Not because I'm a Lannister. But because I am Daenerys' Hand. Well, I won't be Daenerys' Hand for much longer."

"No, you'll be dead soon. Tyrion—"

But Tyrion refused to listen to another word. "That's enough. We don't have time for this. We need to do one more thing before we get you out of here."

"And what is that?"

"Take off your hand."

Jaime's eyes narrowed on his brother. "What? Why?"

"Because when Daenerys' men find it, they'll think it's proof that you're dead, buried somewhere deep among the rubble. Give it to me now, and we can go."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I haven't got the strength to take it off."

Tyrion didn't say another word. He simply reached for Jaime's golden hand and began working the straps free. In a few, silent moments, the wretched thing was gone, and Tyrion quickly buried it amongst the rubble, its frozen fingers peeking out just above the surface.

Once he was done, Tyrion pushed himself to his feet, standing atop the mountain of bricks. "I'm sure that if I don't show myself soon, the Unsullied will come looking for me, and I don't want them to find me here with you. Go, Jaime, while you still can. Please, go and live."

"I hate saying goodbye to you, little brother. It's always the hardest thing in the world to do."

"I know. We've each cheated death once now, but I think this goodbye will be the last. I love you, Jaime. Whatever happens, try to have a happy life. Find love, forgive yourself. You're a good man. I believe it, and so does Brienne of Tarth."

Tyrion moved forward, wrapped his arms around Jaime's neck, and hugged him, being careful not to squeeze too hard. "I'm going to miss you," he mumbled against Jaime's shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you too. I love you, Tyrion."

"I love you too, Jaime."

Tyrion let him go then and offered Jaime his hand. "Come. You have to get out of here before anyone finds you."

"I think I can manage on my own."

"No, you can't. Now, let me help."

Jaime took Tyrion's hand, and together, they worked to get Jaime onto his knees. He wobbled a little, and it was difficult for him to climb over the rubble, but somehow, he made it to the ground and finally stood on his own two feet.

He leaned on Tyrion's shoulder as he turned to look back at Cersei, her body lying lifeless among the bricks. "Shouldn't we—?"

"No," Tyrion said, pulling Jaime away. "We shouldn't. There's no time."

Jaime took one last look at his sister, saying a silent goodbye, before finally turning away and following Tyrion, leaving the past behind.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The quill scratched along the page, depositing clear, even letters on the parchment as Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sat in one of the few remaining rooms in the White Sword Tower adding lines to _The Book of Brothers_.

Despite the emotions flowing through her veins, her hand stayed steady as she chronicled Jaime Lannister's bravest deeds in calm, smooth strokes.

_Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life._

_Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy._

Brienne dipped her quill into the inkpot once more, refilling the nib before lowering it to the parchment again.

She hadn't been Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for very long. In fact, she had only taken her vows three days earlier. The oath she had sworn had differed slightly from the one traditionally sworn by the Kingsguard. Gone was the vow to serve for life, as was the promise never to marry or produce children. King Bran had insisted upon changing the oath, declaring that service in the Kingsguard should be treated as a privilege and not a punishment. Brienne had tried to argue with him, to remind him that such rules had been put in place for a reason. But Bran had softly and calmly dismissed her concerns, reminding her that he was the king and that he knew what was best for all concerned.

_Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell, alone._

_Faced the Army of the Dead and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King. _

Brienne had spent a lot of time thinking about Jaime since he'd abandoned her at Winterfell. When he'd first left, she'd cried for days. Oh, not constantly, by any means. She'd kept a brave front before Lady Sansa and the northern lords. But when she'd been alone, alone in her chamber, alone in the bed she and Jaime had once shared, the tears had flowed freely. She'd cried so much that she'd made herself sick. She'd cried until the tears simply wouldn't come anymore.

There had been moments, fleeting though they had been, when Brienne had been able to convince herself that Jaime had ridden south to end Cersei's life, to finish her once and for all. In those moments, Brienne had truly believed that she would someday see him again. But then, reality would come crashing back in on her, and she'd realize that she was just a fool, that Jaime had left because he still loved Cersei, still wanted to be with Cersei, and for no other reason.

News of Jaime's death had reached Winterfell a week after the capital had fallen. The same letter that had contained the report of his death had also included news of Queen Daenerys' demise and an account of the destruction she had wrought in King's Landing.

It had all come as a great shock to Brienne. Although she had been just as wary of Daenerys Targaryen as Lady Sansa had been, she had never expected such a horrific turn of events. It amazed her that both Tyrion Lannister and Jon Snow could have been so wrong in their devotion to the Dragon Queen. Unfortunately, it just reaffirmed for Brienne that men did stupid things for the women they loved, and it made her hate Jaime just a little bit more.

It made her hate him almost as much as she loved him.

Because she did still love him. She could pretend all she wanted that Jaime Lannister meant nothing to her, that he was just a page in her life, the same way he was just a page in _The Book of Brothers_. But that wasn't the truth, and Brienne took some small pride in the fact that she was at least able to admit that to herself. She was no coward. She had never run from the truth. She loved Jaime, no matter what he had done, no matter how badly he had broken her heart. And she always would.

Brienne dipped her quill once more, tapping the excess ink from the nub. She turned her attention back to the book but couldn't bring herself to write the last line. She'd finished recounting all of Jaime's heroic deeds. There was only one last thing to report.

Brienne pulled her eyes away from the book and stared out into the room, knowing what she must write, but struggling to find the words. She had been tasked with recording Jaime's legacy, and despite how they had parted, she could not, she would not, make him sound like anything less than a hero. Jaime Lannister had not always been honorable, but he'd had his moments, and as far as Brienne was concerned, that was how history would remember him, as an honorable man.

Fighting back her own emotions, Brienne lowered the quill to the page and wrote one last line.

_Died protecting his Queen._

Brienne stared at the words for a moment, then lifted her eyes from the page. She thought about Jaime, about how much she had loved him and about how she would never see him again.

Brienne blinked the tears from her eyes and finally closed the book. She sat back in her chair and gazed out into the room for a long time, willing her heart to stop racing, willing herself not to picture his face.

Jaime had never received a proper funeral. After the dust had settled on King's Landing, guards had been sent below the keep to recover Cersei's body. They'd found her lying among the rubble, broken and bloodied, but they'd never found Jaime. His golden hand had been discovered among the fallen bricks, but nothing more. Brienne was sure that his body would eventually be recovered, once reconstruction on the Red Keep began in earnest. No doubt, he was buried quite deeply beneath the rubble, and the guards had simply not wanted to waste the effort in trying to dig him out. And why should they have? He had been on the losing side, after all. They didn't owe him anything, and neither did she.

And yet, there were times, late in the middle of the night when Brienne was lying awake in her room, when she would think about sneaking into the cavernous tunnels beneath the Red Keep and trying to uncover his body. She hated thinking about Jaime all alone down there – dead, battered, forgotten.

And sometimes, all Brienne wanted was for Jaime to stay there, peaceful and undisturbed. Although he hadn't received a proper burial, he had been buried, and his presence in the castle was something of a comfort to her. It wasn't as if she could feel him roaming the halls or watching her from afar, but it was reassuring knowing he was there all the same. Her Jaime, forever a part of the Red Keep, forever beyond her reach.

There was a soft, low rap on the door, and Brienne started out of her reverie. She turned her eyes toward the sound, silently wondering just how long she'd been lost in thought. She cleared her throat and bid her visitor enter.

The door creaked open, and Tyrion Lannister stepped into the room. Brienne inhaled a shallow breath. Although it had been Lord Tyrion who had appointed her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, they had barely spoken since her return to the capital. They'd both been too busy making arrangements for the future of the Six Kingdoms.

"Am I interrupting you, Lady Brienne? Or should I say, Ser Brienne? Or is it, Lord Commander?" Tyrion shook his head. "I'm not quite sure what I should call you."

"Brienne is fine."

"Of course. Brienne. Am I interrupting you?"

"No, you are not. I was just adding some lines to _The Book of Brothers_, but I am done now. What can I do for you, Lord Hand?"

Tyrion pushed the door closed behind him and moved toward Brienne. "Tyrion, please. If I am to call you Brienne, you should call me Tyrion."

"Very well, Tyrion. What can I do for you?"

Tyrion stopped on the other side of Brienne's desk and pushed himself up into an empty chair. "You and I haven't had a chance to talk since you returned to King's Landing, and I think that we should."

"About the Kingsguard?"

"About my brother."

Brienne's eyes flickered away from Tyrion, but only for the briefest moment. She was sure he had noticed. He was Tyrion Lannister, after all. He noticed everything.

"What about your brother?" Brienne asked.

"I realize this isn't any of my business—"

"No, it's not."

"But I feel the need to speak to you about it anyway. It's important. There's something I need to know."

"I hope you don't intend to command me to confess my secrets," Brienne said. "You may be Hand of the King, but you are not the sovereign, and you have no control over what is hidden in my mind or my heart."

"Ah, so you do still harbor an affection for my brother in your heart."

Brienne looked at Tyrion with steely eyes. She was not about to confess anything to him. Her feelings for Jaime were just that, _her _feelings, and she had no intention of sharing them with anyone, not even the Hand of the King.

"Your brother betrayed us in his final moments," Brienne answered. "He abandoned the side of right and returned to the Red Keep to protect your sister. How you can think I would hold the slightest bit of affection for him after that is beyond me. I once thought that Jaime Lannister was a man of honor, but in his final days, he did everything he could to prove me wrong."

"Yes, that may be true," Tyrion said slowly, "but that doesn't mean you don't still love him."

Brienne hardened her jaw and fought to rein in her frustration. She had always been even-tempered. It's what made her a good fighter. But Tyrion Lannister was baiting her on purpose. She didn't know what he wanted from her, why he was trying to make her confess her true feelings, but whatever his scheme, she wanted no part of it.

"Only a fool would love him after what he did," Brienne said. "Are you calling me a fool?"

"No, not at all," Tyrion replied. "I think you are one of the most levelheaded individuals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I think you are smart and practical and see the world as it really is and not how you want it to be."

"Then how can you accuse me of loving Ser Jaime?"

Tyrion rested his arms on the sides of his chair and leaned in closer. "Because you do see the world as it really is, and you don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. For all his faults, you know my brother was a good man, and that's why you still love him. Because despite what he did–or what you think he did–in his final days, you know that, deep down inside, he was honorable to a fault."

"What I _think_ he did?" Brienne questioned. "I _know_ what he did."

"Do you?"

"Yes, of course, I do. They found that blasted golden hand beneath the Red Keep not a foot away from your cursed sister. I know what he did. We all know what he did."

"But do you know why? For certain?"

Brienne straightened in her chair, her back going rigid. "He told me why."

"And what did he tell you?"

The breath caught in Brienne's throat as she fought the memory she'd been avoiding for so long. Tyrion wanted her to relive that horrible moment, the moment Jaime had turned his back on her, and that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

Brienne steadied her nerves before she tried to answer, willing her voice to remain calm. "He told me that he had to go to her. And then, he recited a litany of his sins, all the horrible things he had done just for Cersei."

"And?"

"And that was it. That was all. He—" Brienne nearly choked on the word. The memory was so painful, so visceral, that it nearly took her breath away. "He turned away from me and got on his horse. He rode through the gates and never looked back."

Brienne left out the rest of it. She left out the part where she'd begged him to stay, where he had ridden out of the yard as she'd stood there in tears. How could there be anything honorable in the way Jaime had left her? He had turned his back on her in favor of his sister. He had abandoned her despite her pleading, and she knew she would never fully recover from it.

"What would you have done if he had survived?" Tyrion asked.

Brienne blinked, forcing her eyes to refocus on Tyrion, his words suddenly pulling her back to the present. "What?"

"If Jaime had survived, if he had somehow managed to make it out of the Red Keep alive, what would you have done? Would you have taken him back with open arms, or would you have spent the rest of your life shunning him?"

Brienne was startled by the question, not because she hadn't thought about it, but because she had never expected Tyrion Lannister to ask her such a thing. When Jaime had first left, she had spent days, weeks, imagining what she would do if he ever returned to Winterfell asking for forgiveness. Sometimes, in her grief, she had imagined forgiving him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him senseless until he promised never to leave again. And other times, she had imagined turning him away and vowing never to speak to him again, no matter how much he begged.

Brienne wasn't sure how to answer Tyrion. He was the Hand of the King after all, and if she wanted to keep her position, she knew it was in her best interest to stay on his good side. But she didn't want to lie to him, and she didn't want him to know how undecided she was about the answer to his question. So she said the only thing she could say, "I'm sorry, my lord, but I can't answer that."

The corner of Tyrion's mouth quirked in a smile. "It's Tyrion, Brienne, remember?"

"Tyrion," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "I can't answer that question. Or more precisely, I don't have a suitable answer."

"Because you think I will find fault with you if you don't give me the answer you think I'm looking for?"

"No, because without being in that situation, I have no way of knowing how I would behave. It is very easy to make plans in one's mind, but even the best plans can fall apart in execution. I think the sack of King's Landing is a perfect illustration of that point, don't you?" Brienne asked in challenge.

For a moment, she thought Tyrion was going to be offended by the insinuation in her words, but suddenly, his smile broadened and he leaned back in his chair. "I can see why my brother liked you. More than liked you."

"I hope you are not planning to press your own suit," Brienne said. "I realize that King Bran has done away with forced celibacy for the Kingsguard, but I personally plan to honor that commitment, even without the vow. Besides, I'm sure you have better prospects than the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

Tyrion laughed. "I no longer have any prospects myself. Just duty and honor till the end of my days. Apparently, I shall die just as celibate and alone as you, Brienne."

"What a charming thought," she said flatly.

Tyrion laughed again. "Yes, I definitely like you." He climbed down from his chair and stopped for a moment to look up at her. "Thank you for this little chat. May I visit you again sometime?"

"I really wish you wouldn't."

"I'll take that as a maybe then," he said with a shrug. "But for now, I shall bid you good day, Brienne."

"Good day, Tyrion."

The moment Tyrion exited the room, Brienne sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping with the effort. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair, willing her emotions under control. She hated talking about Jaime with anyone. She still didn't know what Tyrion Lannister had been after by visiting her, but she knew he'd been after something. For a moment, he'd almost made her think that he had an interest in pursuing her romantically, but that was just absurd. No, he wanted something else from her, she just didn't know what it was, but she was sure she would find out in due time.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

King's Landing was not at all as Jaime had remembered it. Daenerys Targaryen had left an indelible mark on every stone, every brick, in the vast city for as far as the eye could see. Half the buildings had been burned to the ground, while the other half had fallen walls and broken windows. Even six months after the Dragon Queen's death, little had been rebuilt. A tent city had risen outside the walls of King's Landing, and even within, merchants had erected makeshift stalls throughout the capital, hoping to lure a populace that was more than happy to stay beyond the walls.

Jaime had been leery about returning to King's Landing, but he'd heard that Tyrion had somehow been made Hand of the King, and he needed to see his brother again before he made any decisions about what he was going to do with the rest of his life. It had been a shock to discover that Tyrion was still alive, but then, Tyrion had been born with a silver tongue and could talk himself out of just about anything. Obviously, he must have given quite the performance to convince Bran the Broken to make him his Hand, and that was a story Jaime was eager to hear.

After Tyrion had helped him reach the dinghy beyond the fallen walls of the Red Keep, Jaime had rowed south, keeping close to the coastline. He had considered going north, but the current had been against him, and he'd feared what Brienne would say if she saw him again. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about her over the past six months, and he'd ultimately decided that she was better off without him. He was just as worthless as he'd told her he was the night he'd left Winterfell. Whatever Brienne's life was like now, he was more than certain it was better than when he had left it.

Once the little boat had cleared Blackwater Bay, the winds had taken Jaime toward Tarth, as if the gods themselves had wished to mock him. He'd expended what little energy he'd had left to avoid the island and had eventually made land somewhere beyond Storm's End. He'd come ashore in a small fishing village and had been taken in by a local fisherman who had found him a maester and nursed him back to health. Jaime had spent six months living among the smallfolk, and he had quickly learned that they didn't particularly care about rank or status or who sat on the Iron Throne. They just wanted to live their lives as best they could without starving to death or dying in someone else's war. Thinking he was one of them, they had been kind to Jaime, and he would never forget that kindness.

It hadn't taken long for news of Queen Daenerys' death or Bran's coronation to reach the small villages beyond King's Landing. At first, Jaime had been stunned by the news, but he'd soon learned to accept it, along with the fact that Tyrion was now Hand of the King. It had taken Jaime months to get his strength back, but as soon as he'd made a full recovery, he'd headed north for King's Landing, knowing that he couldn't stay in hiding forever.

Jaime had wanted to meet Tyrion outside the city walls, in one of the makeshift tent taverns that dotted the open landscape. In fact, he had paid a messenger to smuggle a note into the Red Keep, asking Tyrion to join him. But Tyrion had sent his own note in reply, demanding that Jaime visit the castle one evening after dark, so they could talk in private.

Jaime had gone to the specified gate and had been met by Podrick Payne – Ser Podrick Payne now. Jaime had peppered him with questions – about Tyrion, about Brienne – but Pod had refrained from answering, just saying that the Lord Hand had instructed him to keep his mouth shut.

Jaime could only imagine what his brother had in store for him. Tyrion had always been a bit arrogant, particularly when he had won a personal victory, and in the grand scheme of things, no one was a bigger winner in the game of thrones than Tyrion Lannister. He had cheated death more than any man had a right to, and he was now the most powerful man in the Six Kingdoms. Although Bran Stark wore the crown, Tyrion Lannister certainly wielded all the power.

Podrick led Jaime to the Tower of the Hand, or at least, what was left of the Tower of the Hand. As far as Jaime could tell, the top two levels had been lost in the devastation, and Tyrion had taken to living on the ground floor.

Jaime and Podrick stopped outside of a closed door, and Pod knocked.

"Come in." Tyrion's voice carried to them loud and clear.

Jaime's insides tightened at the sound. When he'd left King's Landing, he'd thought never to hear his brother's voice again, but now, they were about to be reunited once more.

Podrick pushed the door open and stepped aside, holding out a hand in front of him and encouraging Jaime to enter.

Jaime cast one long, doubtful look at Podrick before slipping past him and into the room. Before Jaime could say another word, the door closed behind him and he found himself alone with Tyrion.

Tyrion was sitting at a large table, the entire surface laid out with food. He had a goblet in his hand, and as soon as Jaime's eyes met his, he raised it in toast. "Welcome home, brother."

But Jaime didn't feel very much like toasting at the moment. "This is a bit much, don't you think?" he asked, eyeing the feast before him.

"Not at all," Tyrion said with a shake of his head as he lowered his glass. "My brother is alive and well, safe and sound and back in the family fold. We have much to celebrate."

Jaime eyed him doubtfully. "Other than Ser Podrick, who knows I'm alive?"

Tyrion shrugged. "No one, I suppose. Well, except Bran, of course."

"You told him because he's your king?"

"No, I never told him anything. But he sees all and knows all, so I'm sure he's quite well aware that you're alive, even though we've never spoken of it."

Jaime ambled into the room, drawn to the wealth of food waiting for him at the table. It seemed as if Tyrion had instructed the kitchen staff to have all of Jaime's favorites prepared in anticipation of his return. "Isn't the rest of King's Landing starving?" he asked.

"Anything we don't eat tonight will be gathered up and shared with the servants in the kitchens. And anything they don't eat shall be given to the beggars who sit outside the Red Keep waiting for scraps each morning. Nothing will go to waste, I assure you."

Jaime felt guilty for sharing in such abundance when he knew, firsthand, how the people beyond the walls of King's Landing were suffering.

Tyrion must have sensed his trepidation because he said, "You need to eat, Jaime. You're practically skin and bones. Sit for a while. Eat, drink, talk. And then, you can retire for the evening, take a hot bath and put on fresh clothes."

Jaime raised his eyes from the table and looked at Tyrion again, his emotions suddenly getting the better of him. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"And I thought the same thing."

"How . . . how did you ever become Hand of the King?"

"It's a long story. One for another night." Tyrion held his hand out toward the chair beside him. "Sit. We have much more important things to discuss."

Jaime moved closer to the table. It was then that he noticed the gift Tyrion had left for him beside his plate. He stopped dead still, staring blindly at the golden hand, the golden hand he had left behind six long months ago when he'd barely escaped King's Landing with his life.

"I kept it for you," Tyrion said. "I was sure you'd want it upon your return."

"I don't." The words were out of Jaime's mouth before he could even think.

"You don't?"

Jaime shook his head. "I . . . I don't think I ever want to wear that thing again. Too many memories. Too many bad memories." He looked up at Tyrion. "Will you remove it? I . . . I don't even want to look at it."

Tyrion cleared his throat awkwardly. "But of course." He put down his goblet and reached for the hand, moving it to the opposite side of the table, beyond Jaime's direct line of sight. And then, just for good measure, he draped his napkin over it, completely hiding it from view. "I'll just keep it safe for you in case you change your mind."

Jamie turned his attention back to Tyrion. He suddenly felt exhausted, and all he wanted to do was collapse, but there was something else he needed to do first.

Jaime rounded the table and approached his brother. Before Tyrion could say another word, Jaime leaned down and hugged him tightly.

Tyrion lifted his hands to Jaime's back and embraced him just as fiercely, though no words were spoken between them. They stayed that way for a long time before Jaime finally pulled back and settled himself in the chair beside Tyrion.

Tyrion poured Jaime a glass of wine, and Jaime accepted it gladly. He held it up in salute. "To you, brother, for saving my life."

Tyrion raised his glass in turn. "And to you, brother, for coming back to me."

They both drank.

Jaime was grateful for the wine. It was a fine vintage, the best he'd had in ages, and for a moment, he actually felt like himself again. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed any of life's luxuries. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like not to live like a peasant.

Jaime lowered his glass and looked at Tyrion, quietly examining him. Tyrion looked no worse than he had at Winterfell, all those months ago. Despite the fact that the fate of the realm rested squarely on his shoulders, he looked hearty and healthy. Tyrion thrived whenever he was in a position of power, and there was no doubt that he was thriving now. Jaime was glad. He had expected Tyrion to die the day they had last parted company. The fact that he was still alive was something close to a miracle.

"What?" Tyrion asked as he finally lowered his own glass. "Why are you staring?"

Jaime shook his head. "I just don't know how you do it. You've cheated death, yet again."

"And so have you. Apparently, it's very hard to kill us Lannister brothers. Many have tried, but none have succeeded."

Tyrion's lips quirked in a wry smile, and Jaime couldn't help but smile in return.

"So," Tyrion began as he put down his glass and reached across the table and started filling his plate, "where have you been for the past six months?"

Jaime turned his attention to the feast before him. Suddenly, he felt famished. "A small fishing village just outside of Storm's End," Jaime replied as he put down his own glass and started loading up his plate. "I was fortunate enough to find a kind soul to take me in and nurse me back to health. I headed for King's Landing as soon as I was certain I had the strength to make the journey."

"And what happened to returning north, returning to Brienne?"

Jaime frowned, his brows knitting together. He didn't want to talk about Brienne. He'd already made up his mind that she was better off without him in her life, and he didn't want Tyrion meddling in his private affairs. "I'm sure Ser Brienne has better things to do with her time than sit around waiting for me," Jaime said as he picked at his food. "When I left Winterfell, I made sure to make a clean break, and that's the way it's going to stay."

"But why?" Tyrion asked. "Why does it have to stay that way? You love her, don't you?"

Jaime looked up at Tyrion, staring at him for a long moment, struggling to decide how to reply. Of course, he loved Brienne. Although he had never confessed his true feelings to her, he loved her more than he had ever loved any other woman, including Cersei. He would always love Brienne. But she deserved better. She always had.

"It's been six months," Jaime finally said. "Regardless of what I once felt for her—"

"What you still feel for her," Tyrion corrected.

"Regardless, half a year has passed, and I'm certain Brienne has already moved on with her life. There's no point in dredging up the past now. I'm sure she's quite content at Winterfell, and I don't want to disturb her peace."

Tyrion shook his head and reached for his wine. He took another sip, and when he finally lowered his glass, he said, "So, if you do not intend to go north to be with Brienne of Tarth, what do you intend to do?"

Jaime shrugged and went back to picking at his plate. "I hadn't really thought about it. I assume the king has made you Lord of Casterly Rock?"

"He has not."

"What?" Jaime looked up at Tyrion in surprise.

"King Bran has not granted anyone that title. You and I are the last of the Lannisters, and I am here in King's Landing, living out my punishment, and you were nowhere to be found. Maybe he thinks neither one of us deserves it," Tyrion said with a shrug.

"That's absurd. Of course, you deserve it."

Tyrion shook his head, the hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm sure the king has other plans for the Rock, but who are we to question them?"

Jaime was surprised that Tyrion could be so cavalier about something so important. But Tyrion didn't seem the least bit bothered by the fact that their ancestral home was now empty, their father's title in danger of being passed to someone outside the family. Perhaps Tyrion knew more than he was admitting. Jamie wouldn't have been surprised if he did.

"So, what am I supposed to do?" Jaime asked. "If I can't return to Casterly Rock—"

"You can stay here and join the Kingsguard again."

Jaime was horrified by the suggestion. "You can't possibly mean that."

Tyrion put down his glass and leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his chest as he eyed Jaime thoughtfully. "Oh, I assure you, I do. Though, I can't appoint you myself. It will be up to the new Lord Commander to decide if you should be reinstated."

"And who's the new Lord Commander?" Jaime asked offhandedly, vaguely wondering if it was someone he knew, or worse, someone he had offended.

"Well, that is a good question, isn't it?"

Jaime glared at Tyrion. "Who?"

A knowing smile spread across Tyrion's lips as he replied, "Ser Brienne of Tarth."

Jaime's fork clattered to his plate, and he stared at Tyrion in stunned silence.

Tyrion just laughed. "I see I've shocked you."

"You . . . you can't be serious."

"Of course, I am," Tyrion replied, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "Ser Brienne came south months ago and agreed to take the position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. She was sworn in not long after you left King's Landing."

Jaime tore his eyes away from Tyrion's and stared blankly at the table in front of him. When he'd headed toward King's Landing, he'd been certain that Brienne was hundreds of miles to the north. He'd never imagined that she might be in the capital, that she might be right there in the Red Keep. Suddenly, Jaime didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he had to get out of there as quickly as he could.

Jaime pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I have to go."

"Don't you dare," Tyrion warned, his voice stern. "Sit down, Jaime. We still have a lot to discuss."

Jaime turned his head, his eyes resting on Tyrion again. "I can't. I just . . ."

"Are you a man or are you a coward?" Tyrion asked. "Sit."

It took Jaime a moment, but he finally lowered himself back down into his chair. He stared down at the table again, trying to slow the blood racing through his veins.

"Brienne has done an admirable job of commanding the Kingsguard," Tyrion said. "She has proven herself capable and loyal, and I think she would be quite happy to have you among her ranks."

Jaime finally forced himself to look at Tyrion again. "She's not going to want me for anything. She's going to wish that I had stayed dead."

"How little you know about women," Tyrion scoffed.

"I mean it. What in the world makes you think that she'd ever want to see me again, much less accept me into the ranks of the Kingsguard?"

Tyrion reached for his glass again, though he didn't drink. "Well, as far as I can tell, Brienne is still just as much in love with you as you are with her. Of course, she refuses to admit it, no matter how hard I've tried to make her confess. But I suppose she just doesn't want to share her true feelings with me. After all, who am I? I may be Hand of the King, but I am still just a sad little dwarf."

"There's nothing sad about you," Jaime said. "Unless, of course, it's your sense of humor. You just want me to join the Kingsguard so you can push me and Brienne together. But it won't work. You said she's already taken her oath, which means, she has already sworn herself to a life of celibacy. If you honestly think she would break that vow, then you don't know Brienne at all."

Tyrion shrugged. "Perhaps." He brought his glass to his lips and took another sip of wine.

Jaime turned away. "I don't want to serve under Brienne," he said. "I couldn't do that to her."

"Why? Because you think it would hurt her, or because you think it would hurt you?"

Jaime inhaled a steadying breath, Tyrion's question churning in his mind like a storm-tossed sea. The truth was, he was a coward. He was scared to face Brienne again, scared to see the look of disgust on her face when they were finally reunited. It had been a long time since she'd looked at him that way, and even now, his gut twisted at the memory. He deserved her disgust, even her hatred. He'd purposefully broken her heart because he'd thought it would make their parting easier for her, thought it would keep her from following after him. He had never expected to survive the fall of King's Landing, but now that he had, he supposed he had no choice but to face the consequences.

"Well?" Tyrion prompted when Jaime didn't answer. "Why don't you want to serve under Brienne? Who are you really worried about hurting?"

Jaime sighed. "Both of us." He finally looked up at Tyrion again. "But the truth is, I owe Brienne. I owe her a great deal. If she wants to take me into the Kingsguard, if she wants to spend the rest of her life making me miserable, then that is her right, and I won't take that away from her. I will do whatever you wish, brother. Whatever Brienne wishes. It's the least I can do to atone for my sins."

Tyrion smiled again. "You know, I think that's the smartest thing you've said all night."

"Just don't make me regret it."

Tyrion's smile widened. "Oh, I promise, you won't."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The small council meeting ran longer than usual the next morning. Lord Bronn and Ser Davos had gotten into an argument about the cost of rebuilding the royal fleet, and Grand Maester Tarly had spent a good deal of time trying to negotiate a peace between them. Tyrion had stayed relatively silent on the matter, and Brienne could only imagine it was because he had been distracted by other things. In fact, he had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning, and she feared that could only mean something was deeply troubling him.

When the meeting finally adjourned, everyone began to file out of the room. Brienne was halfway to the door, when Tyrion called out to her.

"Lord Commander, a word, please."

Brienne stopped, and Bronn turned his head to give her a questioning look. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask, _What kind of trouble are you in now__?_ But Brienne ignored him. She simply turned around, her shoulders back, her head held high, and faced the Hand of the King.

"Bronn," Tyrion called past Brienne, "shut the door on your way out. I want a private word with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"A private word, huh?" Bronn scoffed. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Just shut the door."

The door closed behind Brienne, and an oppressive silence settled over the room. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm as she waited for Tyrion to speak.

He offered her an awkward smile, as if he was trying to ease her insecurities. Or maybe he was trying to ease his own.

"Please," Tyrion said, holding out a hand toward the chair beside him. "Sit. There's something we need to discuss."

Brienne walked back to the table and lowered herself down into the chair. She kept her posture rigid as she turned to face him. "Yes, my lord, what is it?"

"Tyrion, remember?" he said with an uncomfortable laugh. "There's no need for titles here."

"What is it, Tyrion?"

"We had a visitor to the Red Keep last night, a veteran of the Battle of Winterfell. He is looking for a post, and I thought you might want him for the Kingsguard."

A small sigh escaped Brienne's throat, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. Was that all Tyrion wanted to talk about? A new recruit? She had feared it was something worse, something much more personal.

"Who is he?" Brienne asked, wondering if it was someone she knew.

"Oh, just a soldier who fought among the ranks," Tyrion said with a careless wave of his hand. "He was here in King's Landing too, when the city fell. He was injured, and he has just finally made a full recovery. I thought, perhaps, you could meet with him and decide for yourself if you'd like to take him under your command."

"I will do whatever you wish," Brienne replied with a deferential nod in Tyrion's direction. "You are Hand of the King after all."

"But the Kingsguard is under your command, and therefore, all recruitment decisions are to be left to your discretion. If you don't want to take him on, I will understand. I'll just have to find him another post, that's all."

Brienne's eyes narrowed on Tyrion, her curiosity piqued. "Just who is this man? Is he a war hero? Does he owe you something personally?"

Tyrion nodded. "Yes, and yes. But as I said, you are under no obligation to accept him into your ranks. All I ask is that you meet with him and decide for yourself."

"Very well. When would you like me to meet him?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"He's waiting for you in the White Sword Tower. I'd like you to meet with him at once."

Brienne's shoulders tightened, and her pulse began to race. Obviously, whoever was waiting for her was someone important, someone the Hand of the King cared very much about. Brienne knew she would have to tread carefully, lest she offend the most powerful man in the Six Kingdoms.

"In that case," Brienne replied, "I will go now. I do not wish to keep him waiting."

"Thank you," Tyrion said. "I appreciate your prompt attention to the matter."

Brienne pushed her chair away from the table and stood, and Tyrion did the same. She offered him nothing more than a cursory nod before turning away and leaving the room.

In the months that Brienne had served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Tyrion had never once asked her a personal favor, and this felt very much like a personal favor. She feared what she would find when she entered the White Sword Tower. Tyrion could have easily given her a name when she'd asked who she would be meeting with, but he hadn't, and she was certain he'd had a very good reason for that. Tyrion Lannister never did anything without a very good reason, and Brienne knew she wasn't going to like whatever she found waiting for her, but she had no choice but to forge ahead.

The door to the common room was slightly ajar when Brienne finally reached it, and she slowed her steps as she approached. Something felt wrong about the current situation. Instead of feeling like she was walking into the common room of the White Sword Tower, she felt like she was walking into battle. Her fingers twitched, itching to reach for the sword at her hip, but she resisted the urge. She was not on the battlefield. She was in the Red Keep, and there was no reason for her to draw her weapon just yet.

Brienne peered around the edge of the door, stealing a glance inside. Although she had a fairly good view of the room, she couldn't see anyone within. So she did the only thing she could do. She pushed the door open and finally stepped inside.

There was a man standing on the far side of the room, staring out one of the windows that overlooked Blackwater Bay. Even though his back was to her and she could not see his face, there was something eerily familiar about him. He was tall, with dark blond hair, and he held himself with the self-assurance of a man born to a noble house. For a moment, Brienne thought she was seeing a ghost. Had she not known it was impossible, she would have sworn that Jaime Lannister had come back from the dead.

Brienne's heart thumped beneath her ribs, and her head swam as she fought to ground herself in reality. She tried to speak, but she couldn't catch her breath long enough to utter a single word. She just stood there, staring at the phantom before her, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to turn around and shatter her delusions. But he stayed just as he was, still and silent and distant.

Brienne's right hand curled around the hilt of her sword, and she forced herself to focus on the feel of cold metal in her hand. It brought her back to herself, gave her the comfort and courage she needed to do what she had to do, to stop acting like a grieving fool and to start acting like the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Brienne released her grip on Oathkeeper and cleared her throat. "Lord Tyrion asked me to meet with you regarding your desire to join the Kingsguard. He has left your recruitment solely to my discretion. If I find you worthy, I shall accept you into my ranks."

The man shook his head as he slowly turned around. "If that's the case, then you should probably send me away right now."

Brienne stumbled backwards, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. Jaime Lannister stood not ten feet away, staring up at her with the most hauntingly beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Brienne's own eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She was overcome with so many emotions that her entire body felt numb. Relief, joy, anger, fear, regret. She felt all of it, and for a moment, she couldn't even speak.

"I suppose my brother didn't tell you who you were meeting with, did he?" Jaime said, breaking the awkward silence. "He's such a selfish little bastard sometimes."

But Brienne barely heard a word Jaime said. She was so overwrought that her mind could scarcely comprehend half of what was going on. "What . . . what are you doing here?" The words fell from her lips without her even realizing it. "You're . . . you're supposed to be dead."

Jaime laughed, though it was a bitter sound. "Yes, I am at that. But Tyrion saved me. He found me among the rubble and helped me escape. I fled King's Landing and went south. I've spent the past six months in a fishing village near Storm's End, recovering from my wounds."

Brienne tried to make sense of Jaime's words, but it was nearly too much for her. It took her a minute to filter through everything he had said, to understand what it all meant. Finally, everything began to fall into place, and her heart pounded faster beneath her breast. "You . . . you've been alive this whole time, and you didn't say anything? You didn't send word? A letter? A note? Something?"

Jaime shook his head. "I thought it was better if you thought I was dead. I thought it would be easier for you to move on."

"Easier?" Brienne's hands curled into fists at her sides, and she fought the urge to hit him. How many sleepless nights had she spent mourning Jaime Lannister? How much time had she lost grieving him? And for what? "How . . . how could thinking you were dead make things easier for me? After everything we've been through together, everything we've shared—" Brienne's cheeks flushed warmly at the memory of the few precious nights she had spent in Jaime's arms. She suddenly felt like an even bigger fool than she had the night he'd abandoned her.

"I didn't think you would ever want to see me again," Jaime said, his voice hollow. "You deserve better, and I thought it would be easier for you to get over the pain if I just never came back."

Brienne clenched her fists even tighter, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. The pain felt good. It grounded her and kept her from collapsing to her knees. "Then what are you doing here now? If that was really what you thought, why didn't you just stay away forever?"

"I thought I was staying away," Jaime replied. "I came here to see Tyrion. I had no idea that you were in King's Landing or that you were Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I thought you were still at Winterfell. I had no reason to think otherwise."

Jaime's reasoning did nothing to quell Brienne's anger. To know that he was only standing before her now by some cruel twist of fate was not comforting in the least. "If that's true," she said, her voice hardening, "why show yourself at all?" And then, before he could answer, the truth finally hit her, and Brienne laughed. "Unless, of course, you're planning to stay here in King's Landing and you had no choice but to show yourself. That's it, isn't it?"

"Yes, and no."

Brienne wanted to throw him out of the room, to shove him out the door and tell him that she never wanted to see him again. But she couldn't. She could barely even move. Her limbs were shaking, her entire body trembling. Instead of feeling sure and steady, she felt uncertain and weak, and she didn't know how she was going to survive their encounter without bursting into tears.

"What does that mean?" Brienne asked tightly, certain she didn't want to know the answer.

"It means that I didn't come to King's Landing intending to stay, but that when I heard you were here, I knew I had no choice."

She laughed again, the effort making her ribs ache. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that you're staying here to be close to me? To what? Lure me back into your bed now that your sister is gone?"

"No," Jaime said softly, "not that. I'm staying because I hurt you deeply. I know that. I'm willing to give my life to you, to join the Kingsguard and serve under you for the rest of my days. You can punish me, torture me, ridicule me. Whatever you'd like. You can spend the rest of your days making my life a misery, and I would be grateful for the privilege. I'm sorry, Brienne, for everything. And I just want to do whatever I can to make amends, even though this is one debt I know I'll never be able to repay."

Brienne glared at Jaime, her eyes burning into him with thinly veiled fury. She didn't want to help him atone for his sins. She didn't want to give him the forgiveness he was seeking, to make him feel better about all the horrible things he had done. It was bad enough that he had abandoned her for Cersei, but to spend six months lying about being alive was somehow a great deal worse. If he had only told her the truth, reached out to her just once, she might have been spared months of suffering. But instead, she had cried an ocean of tears while he had been just to the south, living his life and pretending that he was doing her some altruistic favor.

"I don't want you in the Kingsguard," Brienne replied. "Tyrion left your enlistment to my discretion, and I don't want you anywhere near me. Stay in King's Landing or go, I don't care. But I don't want anything to do with you, Jaime Lannister. As far as I'm concerned, you died beneath the Red Keep six months ago, and I never want to see you again."

Brienne turned on her heel and tried to walk to the door, but her legs wouldn't carry her. She stood there for a long moment, trying to catch her breath, trying to hold back the tears. She almost managed it too, until Jaime's voice broke the silence.

"Brienne," he whispered her name softly, just as softly as when she'd been lying in his arms back at Winterfell.

That was all it took to break her, and Brienne suddenly began to sob. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her shame, but it was no use. There was no way to hide her tears from Jaime, no matter how hard she tried.

Brienne felt him move up beside her, and her whole body tensed. She dropped her hands and lifted her head to find Jaime standing in front of her, his eyes full of pain and concern.

"Brienne, I am so sorry—"

But she couldn't let him finish. Without thinking, Brienne curled her right hand into a fist, raised her arm, and punched Jaime Lannister squarely in the face.

Jaime howled in pain and grabbed his nose, coddling it protectively as blood began to seep through his fingers.

Brienne squared her shoulders, and her tears dried up. She suddenly felt worlds better, even though there was still a hollow ache in her heart.

"I suppose I deserved that," Jaime said as he pulled his hand away and looked down at the blood on his fingers. He raised his eyes to Brienne again and gingerly felt the bridge of his nose. "I don't think it's broken, but if you'd like to try again—"

"Don't tempt me."

Jaime swiped the blood from beneath his nose and finally dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, Brienne. I—"

But she didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. She glared at him, stopping him in midsentence before she turned and walked away.

With slow, even strides, Brienne exited the room, slamming the door behind her in one final show of fury. She would be perfectly happy if she never saw Jaime Lannister again.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

After leaving the White Sword Tower, Jaime returned to the bedchamber Tyrion had assigned to him the night before. It was a small room on the ground floor of the Tower of the Hand, but Jaime was grateful for it. He had no desire to explore the rest of the keep, to visit the familiar chambers where he had spent his life making his worst mistakes.

Jaime went straight to the washbasin, rinsing the blood from his hand and face. He looked in the small mirror above the washstand and felt his nose one more time, just to make sure that it wasn't broken. He'd deserved much worse, of course, and he was very grateful that Brienne hadn't done any permanent damage.

Jaime knew he should have tried to explain everything to Brienne, tried to make her understand the real reason he had left her all those months ago, but he'd been unable to find the words. Brienne deserved more than rationalizations and excuses. She deserved action. She deserved a physical demonstration of his repentance, though Jaime had no idea what that might entail. All he knew was that he wanted to help Brienne work through her pain and anger in any way he could.

As Jaime stood there, staring at his own reflection, there was a knock at the door, and he groaned inwardly. As far as he knew, besides Brienne, the only people who knew he was even in the Red Keep were Tyrion and Podrick, and Jaime didn't want to see either one of them – Tyrion because he was in no mood to give his brother an accounting of his meeting with Brienne, and Podrick because he didn't think he could stand the look of disappointment on the boy's face when they talked about her. No, there wasn't a single soul in the Red Keep that Jaime wanted to see, but he knew the choice wasn't his to make.

Jaime grabbed a linen cloth from the washstand and dried his face. When he was done, he draped it over the edge of the basin and turned his attention to the door. Reluctantly, he said, "Come in."

The door opened, and Tyrion stepped inside. Jaime almost swore, but he stopped himself when he saw that Tyrion wasn't alone. Samwell Tarly had entered the room right behind him, dressed in white maester's robes. Obviously, Brienne of Tarth wasn't the only one who had improved their station since Jaime had left King's Landing. It was odd seeing Samwell Tarly in the garb of a Grand Maester, but Jaime wasn't all that surprised. There were very few capable men left in Westeros, and he'd only heard good things about Jon Snow's former brother of the Night's Watch.

"How did it go?" Tyrion asked as Sam closed the door behind them.

Jaime narrowed his eyes on his brother. "How do you think it went? Why didn't you tell her who she was meeting with? Why did you let her walk into the situation blind like that?"

"It wasn't my place to tell her. Besides, I feared if she knew, she'd refuse to meet with you at all. I was sure your notorious charm was going to win her over. I'm surprised I was wrong."

"You were more than wrong. Don't you ever do anything like that again," Jaime warned. "The next time you do anything that has even the slightest chance of hurting Brienne, you'll answer to me for it. Do you understand?"

Tyrion laughed, a sly smile pulling at his lips. "It is true love, isn't it?"

"Go to hell."

Samwell Tarly cleared his throat nervously, and both Jaime and Tyrion looked at him as if they'd both forgotten he was there.

"I hate to interrupt this heartwarming family moment," Sam said, his gaze focused on Jaime, "but Lord Tyrion asked me here to check you over, and I'd like to get on with it, if you don't mind."

Jaime's eyes found his brother again. "Check me over?"

"You look like hell," Tyrion said, "and six months ago, you nearly died."

"I've already been examined by a maester."

"When? When you first stumbled into that fishing village? Let Sam here take a look at you. It won't take very long."

Jaime hated the idea of being poked and prodded by one of Tyrion's lackeys, but he knew Tyrion wouldn't relent until he gave into his demands. So, without a word, Jaime unlaced his tunic and shrugged it off his shoulders. Then, he pulled off the linen shirt beneath and walked to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress as Grand Maester Tarly began to examine him.

"This looks dreadful," Sam said as he inspected the scar on Jaime's side.

The stab wound Euron Greyjoy had inflicted on him had left a nasty scar across Jaime's flank. Although the wound had healed, it had healed poorly, and the skin was puckered and red.

"By the Seven," Sam said, "how did you survive this?"

"Luck?" Tyrion replied as he ambled about the room. "By rights, that wound should have killed him, but it didn't. I guess the gods have other plans for my brother."

"Other plans?" Jaime asked as Sam continued his examination. "Like what? Spending my days wasting away in this room listening to you give me bad advice?"

"Does this mean you're not joining the Kingsguard?"

"Oh, no, I'm definitely not joining the Kingsguard. The new Lord Commander has made that abundantly clear."

Tyrion laughed again. "What did she do? Draw her sword and drive you from the tower?"

"She punched me in the face."

Sam's hands froze, and he looked up at Jaime. "She . . . punched you in the face?"

Jaime wished that Tyrion had come alone. It was hard enough talking about Brienne with Tyrion, but having Samwell Tarly in the room just made things exponentially worse. Brienne was a very private person, and she didn't need Jaime confessing her secrets to anyone. But he had already said too much, and he couldn't take it back.

"Yes," Jaime replied, wanting to put the matter to rest as quickly as possible. "She punched me in the face. Thankfully, my nose isn't broken."

"Are you sure?" And before Jaime could answer, Sam reached up and ran his fingers over the bridge of Jaime's nose, just to check for himself. A moment later, he lowered his hands and said, "You're quite lucky, you know. I expect, if she had really wanted to break it, she would have. She was obviously holding back."

"Because she loves him," Tyrion interjected.

"No, she does not love me," Jaime protested, horrified that Tyrion would even say such a thing.

Tyrion shook his head, making a tsking sound with his tongue. "Oh, dear brother, you never did know anything about women, did you?"

"Oh, you're one to talk," Jaime replied. "How are things with you and your lady love? I don't see her anywhere around here. How come you're not with her?"

Tyrion began to fidget, clearly unsettled by the way the tide had turned. "She's had a considerable change of fortune, as I'm sure you're well aware, and she has far better prospects now."

"I'll bet that hasn't stopped you from writing to her every day though, has it?"

"Every other day," Sam said. "He sends a raven to Queen Sansa every other morning."

Tyrion stopped dead still, staring at Samwell Tarly in stunned silence.

Sam must have sensed the tension in the room because he suddenly stopped his work and turned to look at Tyrion.

"What?" Sam said. "Did you think no one knew? Everyone knows. You were smitten with her long before she returned to King's Landing, and it's only gotten worse since she left."

"What . . . what do you mean everyone knows?" Tyrion said, his voice trembling with emotion. "Who is everyone?"

Sam shrugged. "Brienne, Podrick, Davos, Bronn. King Bran, I suppose, though he's never said anything."

"But . . . but the rest of you . . . what? Sit around and talk about it after I leave the small council chamber?"

A guilty blush crept into Sam's cheeks, and he turned back toward Jaime. "Of course not, my lord."

But Jaime could tell from the look on Sam's face that that was exactly what they did. It seemed everyone in the Red Keep knew that Tyrion was in love with the northern queen, and they all found it quite amusing.

Jaime cast a glance at Tyrion and found him scowling, but he refused to feel sorry for his brother. Tyrion was actively meddling in Jaime's relationship with Brienne. It was only fitting that the rest of the keep was meddling in Tyrion's relationship with Sansa.

"What's wrong, brother?" Jaime asked. "Angry that others are interfering in your love affair?"

"Pining from afar does not constitute a love affair, and you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting it. Sansa is a pillar of virtue, and her behavior has always been beyond reproach. There is nothing untoward in the letters I send to her. It is all diplomatic correspondence, missives about supplies and troops and alliances, nothing more."

"I'm sure you'd like to make an alliance with her," Jaime said with a knowing grin.

"You're wrong. Regardless of how I feel about Sansa Stark, I have nothing to offer her. No land, no hereditary titles, and very little gold."

"Perhaps you should talk to your king about Casterly Rock. If Bran Stark grants you the title—"

"But I have no right to it," Tyrion said, stopping Jaime before he could finish. "You have more right to be Lord of Casterly Rock than I do."

"I may be the oldest living male Lannister, but that doesn't mean I deserve the title."

"Why? Because you've made some mistakes in the past? We've all made mistakes."

"The mistakes I've made can't be easily forgiven, especially the mistakes I've made that have hurt the Starks."

"King Bran is very pragmatic," Tyrion replied. "He forgives easily, but mostly because the concerns of this world do not weigh on him as heavily as they weigh on the rest of us."

"But I—" Jaime's eyes moved to Sam who was still standing uncomfortably close even though his examination had ceased the instant they had started talking about Sansa Stark. Jaime had never told Tyrion that he had been the one to push Bran from the tower window all those years ago, and he might have confessed at that very moment if they hadn't had an audience.

"Are we done here?" Jaime asked Sam, wanting some privacy.

Sam nodded. "Oh, yes, yes. I'll bring you some salve for that scar later. It should help the redness if you use it consistently. Also, you need to eat better and to get some exercise. Although I've never examined you before, it's obvious that you've lost a lot of muscle. You need to start taking better care of yourself."

Jaime shrugged. "What does it matter, really? I'm fine just as I am."

"No, you are not fine just as you are," Tyrion replied. "I almost lost you, Jaime. I don't want to lose you again."

"Well, you may not have much choice in the matter."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just that I've already spent too much time in the Red Keep. I thought I could stay. I thought I could make things better for Brienne. But now, I realize that I can't. I should go."

Tyrion moved closer to the bed, as if he expected Jaime to get up and leave that very instant. "You can't go."

"There's nothing for me here. Brienne has made it very clear that she never wants to see me again. I will not be joining the Kingsguard, so what would you have me do?"

A self-satisfied smile tugged at Tyrion's lips. "I have just the thing."

Jaime sat up straighter, ready to argue, and Sam took an instinctive step back.

"Oh, no," Jaime said. "Whatever it is, I want no part of it."

But Tyrion ignored his protests. "I am appointing you to the small council. Pending the king's approval, of course, I name you Master of War."

"What?"

Sam chuckled, and Jaime turned to glare at him.

"Well," Sam said sheepishly, "it makes sense. It's been six months and we haven't found anyone suitable for the position. King Bran told us that the right person would come along eventually, if only we were patient. I guess he was right."

Jaime bristled, all the muscles in his body tightening beneath his skin. He looked at Tyrion again. "I will not—"

"Of course, you will. It's your duty to do so. You feel as if you've betrayed King Bran and his family, yes?"

"Yes, but—"

"What better way to atone for your sins than to serve the new king? I'm certain he'll approve the appointment, and when he does, you'll have no choice but to accept. To do otherwise would be to commit treason, don't you think?"

"Refusing a position on the small council is not akin to committing treason," Jaime said tightly.

"I don't know," Tyrion replied, turning his attention to Sam. "I think it is. Don't you, Grand Maester Tarly?"

"Oh, I agree with whatever the Hand of the King says, of course. If the Hand of the King says it's treason, I'm inclined to believe it's treason."

Tyrion looked at Jaime again. "See? What did I tell you?"

Jaime shook his head. "I don't want any part of this."

"Oh, I know you don't," Tyrion replied. "But you don't have any choice."

"But Brienne—"

"What about Brienne?"

"She's Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Jaime said. "She's on the small council. You can't imagine that she's going to be happy with this appointment. She said she never wanted to see me again, but if you force me to be Master of War, she'll have no choice but to see me every damn day."

The smile on Tyrion's face widened, and Jaime finally understood what it was that his brother was trying to do.

"No," Jaime said. "You can't do that to her."

"I'm not doing anything to her. She is sworn to serve the king. She will serve the king, regardless of who sits across from her at small council meetings. And you will serve the king as well."

"Stop interfering in my life!" Jaime shouted as he pushed himself up from the bed, towering over his brother by nearly two feet. Suddenly, he didn't care that they had an audience. He'd had enough of Tyrion's meddling, and he had no problem telling him so. "If you don't stop," Jaime warned, "I'm going to send my own letter north. I'm going to tell Queen Sansa that you're in love with her. I'm going to tell her what a sad, pathetic fool you are."

But Tyrion just laughed, brushing aside Jaime's threats with a wave of his hand. "Go ahead. Tell her. Everyone else apparently knows. Why shouldn't she?"

"I mean it, Tyrion. This isn't some game. This is my life."

"Yes, and you've made a mess of it thus far. All I'm trying to do is help you mend it."

"Well, I don't need your help. I'm leaving King's Landing, and that's final."

"I suppose you leave me no choice then."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Grand Maester Tarly, please speak to Ser Podrick and ask him to put guards at my brother's door. Ser Jaime is not to leave the Red Keep under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Lord Hand," Sam said with a barely disguised smile. "I shall see to it straight away."

Samwell Tarly slipped from the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and finally leaving Jaime and Tyrion alone.

Jaime stared down at his brother in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am. Very serious." Tyrion's eyes trailed over Jaime's chest. "Just look at you. Sam is right. You need to eat. You need to recuperate. You're all skin and bones. Stay here, Jaime. Rest, take care of yourself. There's nothing out there for you beyond the walls of King's Landing, not unless Bran gives you Casterly Rock. Stay here and see what comes of it. I'm sure if you do, you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"You sound as if you know something I don't."

A wry smile quirked Tyrion's lips. "It's not that. I suspect that Bran knows something that I don't. He hasn't spoken a word about you in all this time, which I've come to learn means that he feels things are progressing just as they should. I trust him. And if this is what he wants, then I have to believe it's for a very good reason. Besides," Tyrion's smile softened, "it means I get to have my brother by my side for just a little bit longer, and gods help me, but I selfishly want that."

"And Brienne?"

"I think she needs to work through this just as much as you do. Give her some time to get used to the idea. I'm sure she's still in shock and things will be considerably different the next time you see each other."

"You mean she won't punch me again?"

"No," Tyrion laughed, "maybe next time she'll stab you."

Jaime didn't find Tyrion's attempt at humor the least bit funny.

When his jape fell flat, Tyrion instantly sobered. "All right, maybe she won't stab you. Maybe she'll throw her arms around you and kiss you instead."

"I think it's more likely that she'll stab me."

"Probably, but whatever she does, at least you'll know you deserved it."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Brienne swung her sword at Podrick, metal clashing against metal as he parried her attack. They were in the training yard beyond the White Sword Tower, sparring in the early afternoon sun. Winter had been blessedly brief, lasting no longer than the Night King had lasted at the Battle of Winterfell, and already it felt like spring. The fighting did something to alleviate Brienne's fury, but it wasn't quite enough.

After her encounter with Jaime, she had gone to her bedchamber to deal with her emotions in private. She'd broken a few things – a water jug, a goblet, a couple of plates – nothing important, but no matter how many things she'd thrown, she hadn't been able to work out her frustrations. Eventually, she'd left her room and gone in search of Podrick, hoping to exorcise her anger in the training yard.

Brienne couldn't remember ever having been so angry. She had thought she'd gotten over Jaime's betrayal, but she couldn't have been more wrong. Seeing him had brought it all back. She still loved him, of course, but she hated herself for it. Even though she was happy that Jaime was alive, she secretly wished he had just stayed away.

Podrick lunged forward and struck Brienne's flank. He instantly retreated, bowing his head in apology. "I'm sorry, my lady, I—"

"Don't apologize, Pod. You're a knight now. You don't ever have to apologize for being good at what you do."

He raised his head, meeting her eyes again. "Yes, I know. It's just . . ."

"It's just what?"

"You're usually more focused," Podrick replied. "I can't remember the last time I caught you off-guard. It's because of him, isn't it?"

"Because of who?" Brienne asked, lowering her sword.

"Ser Jaime. I know he's alive, and I know he visited you this morning. Obviously, his visit unsettled you. Perhaps we should put off sparring for another time."

Brienne stared at Podrick in stunned silence. She had assumed that, other than her and Tyrion, no one knew that Jaime was still alive. "How . . . how long have you known?"

Podrick offered her a half-hearted shrug. "Since last night. Lord Tyrion swore me to secrecy though. He had me show Ser Jaime to his chamber, but he wouldn't let me talk to him, or to you."

Brienne exhaled a defeated sigh and finally sheathed Oathkeeper. "I think you're right, Pod. I think that's enough sparring for one day."

Podrick sheathed his own sword but made no move to leave. "Are . . . are you all right, my lady?" he asked, his voice soft, hesitant.

Brienne nodded. "I will be."

"But you're not now?"

Brienne didn't want to talk about Jaime with anyone, not even Podrick. As far as she was concerned, Jaime Lannister was still lying dead beneath the rubble of the Red Keep. At least, it was easier for her to keep believing that. It hurt less, and at that moment, she was desperate for anything to take the pain away. She had been such a fool.

Brienne looked over her shoulder, making sure that she and Podrick were alone before she answered. When she turned to him again, she said, "I must admit, finding out that Ser Jaime is still alive was quite a shock. When Lord Tyrion told me that I would be meeting with a potential candidate for the Kingsguard, I had no idea that it would be Jaime Lannister. I was stunned to find him waiting for me in the common room, and I have not yet recovered."

"But is that all of it?" Podrick asked, though he seemed reluctant to do so. "What I mean is, I understand that you're in shock. I was in shock last night when Lord Tyrion sent me to fetch Ser Jaime. But . . . well, after everything the two of you shared—"

Brienne held up a hand, stopping Podrick before he could finish. "That is all in the past now, and a good knight, a true knight, does not let his or her feelings cloud their judgment. My feelings for Jaime Lannister, whatever they once were, have changed irrevocably. I have refused to accept him into the Kingsguard, and it is my hope that he will soon leave the Red Keep and I shall never have to see him again."

Podrick glanced down at the ground for a moment, kicking the dirt at his feet before meeting Brienne's eyes again. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but before you came in search of me, Lord Tyrion commanded me to place guards on Ser Jaime's chamber. He seems determined to keep Ser Jaime here for as long as possible."

The muscles in Brienne's shoulders tightened, and her fingers unconsciously curled around the hilt of her sword. She suddenly wished that Tyrion Lannister had been sent into exile for his crimes against the crown instead of having been appointed Hand of the King. He liked to meddle far too much for her liking, and if he'd been standing before her at that very moment, she might have been tempted to cut him down.

"Why . . . why is Lord Tyrion not sending Ser Jaime to Casterly Rock?" Brienne asked. "Surely, that is the only place for him now."

"I don't know, my lady. But I'm sure he has his reasons. After all, King Bran didn't make him Lord of Casterly Rock. Perhaps it simply isn't his place to do so."

Brienne had always thought it odd that Bran had not granted Tyrion his ancestral lands and titles. She'd convinced herself that the king had refused to bestow such honors on Tyrion as some kind of punishment. But now, she was starting to wonder if Bran had reserved them for Jaime instead. As the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran knew more than any other man alive. He had to have known that Jaime had survived the collapse of the Red Keep. Perhaps he'd just been waiting for Jaime's return all along.

Brienne shook her head. "I think, Podrick, that it's a lot more complicated than that."

They were both silent for a moment. Brienne knew that Podrick was worried about her. Over the years, they had developed a close bond, and she knew he cared for her just as much as she cared for him. But she couldn't reassure him any more than she already had. Her emotions were still far too unsettled for that.

"I think I should return to the keep," Podrick said. "I feel as if I haven't done you any good here today, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Podrick," Brienne replied. "I know that you are just concerned for my welfare, and I appreciate it. Aside from my father and Queen Sansa, I think you're the only person in this whole world who genuinely cares about me, and it means a great deal. Thank you."

"I wish I could do more. I wish I could have warned you last night, but Lord Tyrion—"

"It's all right," she said, stopping him before he could go any further. "You are a sworn knight of the Kingsguard, and your first allegiance is to the king, not to me. And as his agent, that means that your allegiance is also to Lord Tyrion. I understand. You did nothing wrong."

"Is there anything I can do, my lady, to make things easier for you?"

"No, Podrick. But thank you for asking."

"I could challenge Ser Jaime to a contest, best him in single combat to defend your honor."

Brienne laughed, surprised by the fact that she was even capable of laughing at that moment. "That's quite all right. I'm more than capable of defending my own honor, as you are well aware."

"Oh, yes, of course," Podrick said awkwardly, his cheeks darkening with embarrassment.

Brienne decided to put him out of his misery. "You may go, Pod. I think I will stay here a little while longer and practice my form. Maybe being alone is what I need most right now."

"If there's anything else . . ."

"I will let you know."

Podrick bowed his head and then quietly headed back to the keep, leaving Brienne alone in the yard.

Brienne unsheathed Oathkeeper and began idly swinging it through the air, enjoying the feel of the Valyrian Steel in her hand as she imagined slicing off Jaime Lannister's head. She quickly lost herself in the moment, her mind focused, not on her surroundings, but on the man who had broken her heart. Without thinking, she swung a wide arc with her sword, swirling around and nearly colliding with Ser Bronn.

"Whoa!" he said as he took a quick step back. "Watch where you're swingin' that thing."

Brienne was tempted to keep Oathkeeper trained on him. She wasn't particularly fond of the new Master of Coin. She was thoroughly convinced that he didn't know the meaning of the word _honor_, and she would have been more than happy to slice him in two. But Lord Tyrion liked him, and King Bran had sanctioned his appointment, so she resisted the urge to do him any harm.

Reluctantly, Brienne lowered her sword, but she refused to return it to its scabbard. "Well," she replied, "you should watch where you're going."

"I was watching where I was going. You weren't paying attention. Let me guess, that blond toff's got you all flustered, doesn't he? To be honest, I thought you two'd be fucking right now. After all, it's been, what? Six months? I know you're used to going without it, but he's not."

"What are you talking about?" Brienne asked, her eyes narrowing on Bronn.

"Jaime fucking Lannister, of course."

Brienne stared at Bronn in horror. If even Bronn knew that Jaime was still alive, that meant that the rest of the keep knew. "Who told you?" she asked, her blade inching upward as she fought the urge to stab something.

"Grand Maester Tarly is shit at keeping secrets. Everyone probably knows by now."

Brienne's fingers tightened around her sword, and she forced herself to slip it into its sheath. She was mere seconds away from slicing off Ser Bronn's tongue, and she didn't want to give into temptation.

"Guess the reunion didn't go so well, did it?" Bronn said with a shrug. "Did he fuck it up or did you?"

"There was nothing to fuck up," Brienne replied flatly, refusing to lose her composure. "I don't want anything to do with him, and I told him so, that's all."

"Heard that wasn't quite all. Heard you punched him in the face."

A smile tugged at the corner of Brienne's lips, but she fought it back. "I did. And I could have done a lot worse."

"Of course, you could have. I'm not quite sure why you didn't, unless you're planning to take him back. Couldn't mar that pretty face if you're still planning to fuck him, could you?"

Brienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she turned away and headed back toward the keep, hoping that Bronn would get the hint.

But he didn't. He turned with her, falling into step beside her as she walked.

"So, what is it?" he asked. "The fact that he left you for his cunt sister, or the fact that he didn't die with that bitch?"

Brienne fought back another smile. Although she wasn't particularly fond of Bronn, she did appreciate his assessment of Cersei. "It's neither of those things," Brienne replied, keeping her tone even.

"Then what is it? Not that I haven't wanted to punch the fucker in the face a time or two, but he just came back from the dead. You must really be furious if you hit him instead of fucking him."

Brienne stopped, and so did Bronn. She turned to look at him. He was leaning to one side, his shoulders slumped, his hands on his sword belt. He was the sorriest excuse for a knight she had ever seen.

"Is that all you think about?" Brienne asked. "Fucking?"

Bronn shrugged. "Fucking and drinking and gold, yeah. Guess that doesn't make me all that different from the Hand of the King."

"At least Lord Tyrion doesn't drink to excess anymore. And as far as I'm aware, he doesn't frequent whores either."

"Yeah, well, why would he? He prefers pining for the Ice Queen and feeling sorry for himself. He's an annoying little shit sometimes."

There was much Brienne could say regarding Lord Tyrion's feelings for Sansa Stark, and even more she could say about Sansa's feelings for Tyrion. But she wouldn't. Although Sansa wrote to Brienne quite often, she kept everything the queen shared with her in the strictest confidence, including her unspoken fondness for Tyrion Lannister.

"Lord Tyrion can pine all he wants," Brienne said, "but nothing's likely to come of it. The king has made it clear that Tyrion will be his Hand for life, and Queen Sansa has an obligation to her bannermen to marry someone they approve of."

Bronn snickered. "She's a fucking queen. She can do whatever she wants. And that little bastard has spent thirty-odd years talking himself out of situations that would have gotten any other man killed. If she ever asks him to go north, you can bet your white cloak he'll be headed to Winterfell before the ink is even dry on the invitation."

Brienne shook her head. She turned away and started walking again, irritated when Bronn followed.

"Don't you have someplace else you need to be?" she asked, tired of his company.

"Nah, not really. This place is pretty boring most of the time. Not enough intrigue in King's Landing anymore for my tastes. Figured it'd be more fun to annoy you than to head out into the city and just get drunk again."

"You seem quite interested in Ser Jaime, why don't you go annoy him?"

"'Cause I stumbled on you first. Just couldn't help myself, really."

"Well, you've done a sufficient job of annoying me. Why don't you run along and go find Jaime?"

Bronn laughed. "Got any messages you'd like me to pass along?"

"No. I have nothing more to say to him, now or ever."

"You really think that's gonna work?" Bronn asked. "After what the Dragon Queen did to it, the Red Keep ain't quite as big as it used to be. You really think you can avoid him for long?"

"I'll avoid him for as long as I have to. Hopefully, he'll leave soon, and once he's gone, life can go back to normal."

Bronn laughed again. "And what is normal? Don't think things are gonna be normal around here for a good long time."

"No, probably not," Brienne answered, sad to admit it. Even though it had been six months since the sack of King's Landing, life was still far from normal. It would take years, maybe decades, for things to return to the way they once had been.

"You sure you don't have a message for your former lover?" Bronn asked. "This is your last chance."

There were a million things Brienne wanted to say to Jaime, but most of them were obscene. "I have nothing to say to him," she replied. "But, if you are making the offer, all I can ask is that you do your best to annoy him as thoroughly as you have annoyed me."

An arrogant smile quirked Bronn's lips. "Oh, I can definitely do that."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jaime lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was going to sneak out of the Red Keep with two guards at his door and two more at the window. Tyrion was serious about keeping him in King's Landing. Although Jaime wasn't officially a prisoner, he sure as hell felt like one. Tyrion was forcing him to take a position on the small council, and he absolutely hated the idea. All he really wanted was to return to Casterly Rock, even if Bran never granted him the title that went along with it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to forget about all the terrible things he had done. And more than anything, he wanted to leave Brienne in peace.

A sudden knock at the door jolted Jaime from his reverie, and he groaned inwardly. "Go away, Tyrion."

A second later, the door opened, and an all too familiar voice said, "It's not Tyrion. You should probably be thankin' the gods for that."

Jaime groaned again, sitting up in the bed to face Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, yet one more person he had no desire to see. "What in the seven hells are you doing here?"

Bronn closed the door behind him and ambled toward the bed. With a shrug, he said, "Just came to annoy the hell out of you. Didn't have anything better to do."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, what are you doing here in King's Landing, in the Red Keep? Aren't you supposed to be at Highgarden, or better yet, dead in a ditch somewhere?"

Bronn leaned his hip against the footboard of Jaime's bed and laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Mean you'd have one less person to give you shit now that you're back, wouldn't it?"

Jaime shook his head, still not entirely sure why Bronn was in his room. "Really, what are you doing here?"

Bronn squared his shoulders, and with something akin to pride, he said, "I'm the new Master of Coin."

"Like hell you are."

Bronn laughed again. "When your brother and King Bran were putting together the new small council, there were very few options open to them. After all, just about everyone else was dead. Tyrion knows I know the value of a coin, so he gave me the appointment. So, not only am I Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Reach, but I'm also Master of Coin."

Jaime fought the urge to groan again. Instead, he looked away and pushed himself off the bed. He was still bare-chested from the exam Samwell Tarly had given him, and he started looking for his shirt. He felt Bronn's eyes on him as he searched the room.

"Well, don't you look like shit," Bronn said.

"Oh, thank you for noticing." Jaime found his shirt and shrugged it over his head, feeling a bit more in control now that he was dressed.

"What happened to you? Sam didn't go into detail."

Jaime gritted his teeth. He should have known that Samwell Tarly couldn't keep a secret. He turned his head and looked at Bronn. "I survived the collapse of the Red Keep, and Tyrion helped me escape. I've been in the Stormlands for the past six months, doing my damnedest not to die."

"Did you ever think maybe coming back here wasn't the best idea? I mean, you did walk out on the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and I can only imagine she wants your hide."

Jaime laughed, the sound hollow in his throat. "Do you think if I had known that Brienne was here, I would have ever set foot in King's Landing again? I thought she was back at Winterfell, protecting the Queen in the North. I had no idea that Tyrion had called her to the capital and made her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I don't even understand why he did it. Brienne's loyalty, her sworn oath, was to Sansa Stark, not to Bran. It makes no sense that she should shift her loyalties just because the war is over. That's not Brienne. Brienne doesn't break oaths. She keeps all her promises, no matter what the cost."

"I don't think she had much choice in the matter," Bronn replied. "King Bran requested her himself, and Queen Sansa must have felt obliged to honor that request because she's the one who sent Brienne south."

"It's nice that Queen Sansa and King Bran feel they can play with other people's lives so easily. Brienne may be a sworn sword, but she's not chattel, she's not a piece of property that can be passed back and forth between the Starks whenever they see fit. It's disgraceful, if you ask me, and Brienne deserves better."

Bronn let out a long, low whistle. "You've really got it bad, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Jaime's eyes narrowed on Bronn, not quite understanding the question.

"You've got it bad for the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. And it isn't just that you want to fuck her, is it? You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Jaime shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bronn and gazing idly about the room. "I left her for Cersei. Everything was perfect, everything was wonderful between us, and then, in the final hour, I turned my back on her and walked away. I did what I did for Cersei, and for her alone."

"Horseshit."

Jaime looked at Bronn again. "I beg your pardon?"

"Horseshit," Bronn repeated, just as much conviction in his tone as the first time he had said it. "Whatever you did that night, you didn't do it for Cersei. I know that's what you want us all to believe, but you didn't work so hard to be a better man just so you could throw it all away and go back to your bitch sister. I may not be as clever as your brother, but even I know that. So why did you really go? To kill her?"

Jaime clenched his hand at his side, trying to rein in his emotions, trying to keep himself from saying too much. Brienne thought the worst of him, and maybe it would be better if she continued to do so. Jaime was in no mood to defend himself to anyone. Despite his good intentions, he'd made a mess of his mission to kill Cersei. He'd hurt Brienne, and then, when he'd had the chance to end his sister's life, he'd failed, choosing mercy over justice, and there was simply no way he could defend his actions to anyone.

"I had my chance to kill Cersei," Jaime replied, "and I didn't. Instead, I took her in my arms and I held her as we both waited to die."

Bronn pushed himself away from the bed. Now, he looked disgusted. "You're a fucking idiot, do you know that?"

"Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea."

"Look, I'm not exactly all that fond of your lady love. She's far too self-righteous for my liking, and quite frankly, she scares me just a bit. And she's not all that fond of me either. But even I know she doesn't deserve what you've done to her. So, what are you gonna do about it?"

"Do about it? I'm not going to do anything about it. If I had my way, I'd leave the Red Keep right now and never come back, but my blasted brother has other ideas, has guards at my door keeping me here. I want nothing more than to leave, to give Brienne the peace she deserves, but it seems that's not to be my fate. Fucking Tyrion," Jaime swore under his breath.

Bronn chuckled. "Yeah, we say that a lot around here."

Jaime was tempted to laugh, but he didn't want Bronn to think he was winning the argument.

"When's the last time you got drunk?" Bronn asked. "Really good and pissed?"

Jaime remembered the last time he'd been drunk. It had been the night he'd first fallen into Brienne's bed. In truth, he hadn't been quite as drunk as he'd pretended to be. At the time, he'd thought it would make things just a little bit easier for Brienne. But Jaime was not about to admit any of that to Bronn, so he replied, "I'm not my brother. I don't get drunk."

"Well, today, you do." Bronn picked up the leather tunic sitting on the chest at the bottom of Jaime's bed and threw it to him. "Put this on and come with me. I could use a drink."

Jaime eyed Bronn doubtfully. The last thing he wanted was to sit beside Bronn in some noisy tent, being needled about his feelings for Brienne. But the alternative was being stuck in his bedchamber until Tyrion decided to set him free, and he hated that idea even more.

"Fine," Jaime said as he finally shrugged into the tunic, "but I've got very little gold, so you're paying."

Bronn snorted. "I'm the Master of Coin. If I can't buy my old friend, Jaime Lannister, a drink, what's the point of stealing from the crown in the first place?"

"I hope you're joking."

"Only a little. Get dressed and let's go."

Jaime pulled his tunic closed and struggled to secure the fasteners with his one good hand. As soon as he managed to close the last one, he followed Bronn out into the hallway, the guards instantly stopping him.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of the guards asked as he barred Jaime's way with his lance.

"He's goin' with me," Bronn answered. "You got a problem with that, take it up with little Lord Lannister."

"The Hand of the King instructed us to—"

"Fuck the Hand of the King," Bronn said. "I'll guard the prisoner, bring him back safe and sound. After all, I'm a seasoned knight and he's only got one hand. I'm sure you've heard how good I am, and how loyal to the crown."

The guards eyed each other uncertainly, but before either one of them could protest, Bronn looked at Jaime again. "Come on," he said, "let me buy you a drink."

Jaime pushed the lance aside, and the guard offered no further resistance. Bronn wasn't just a sellsword anymore, or a knight, he was a member of the small council, and doubtless, that meant something around the halls of the Red Keep.

Jaime followed Bronn through a maze of corridors and out into the midafternoon sun. Within a quarter of an hour, they were in the heart of the city, sitting at a long, low table in one of the many tents that had sprung up within the capital. The tent tavern had one solid wall, the broken remains of what had once been a building, but the rest was all canvas and tent poles, a makeshift tavern for a city that was barely standing on its own.

Bronn ordered them a couple of beers and leaned back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at Jaime. Jaime, for his part, had no interest in making small talk with the man across from him. Instead, he kept his eyes on the room, scanning the crowd, absorbing the small details he saw around him. Although people were laughing and the wine was flowing freely, there was an undercurrent of tension in the atmosphere. The people around him looked thin, haggard, tired. Even in their revelry, they seemed despondent, and Jaime found the whole thing quite unsettling.

"What do you find so interesting?" Bronn asked after a time.

Jaime still refused to look at Bronn, but he answered just the same. "The city is dying, isn't it?"

"Well, Daenerys Targaryen certainly did her damnedest to kill it, but somehow, it survived. Kings Landing's already got four taverns and six brothels – and that's just inside the city walls – can't really call that death, can you?"

A serving wench arrived with their drinks, and Jaime was finally forced to turn his attention to Bronn.

Jaime lifted his tankard and took a swig of beer before answering. "Four taverns and six brothels are not going to do anyone any good if the people are starving."

"Oh, now, you're wrong about that. Four taverns and six brothels are about the only things that are going to do people good at a time like this. If you can't afford to eat, at least you can afford to fuck and drink. And if you can fuck and drink, who needs food?"

"People need food. People can't exist on fucking and drinking alone."

Bronn laughed. "Sounds like you've never met your own brother."

"Tyrion's not really drinking and whoring anymore, is he?"

Bronn shook his head. He wrapped a hand around his tankard and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Nah. He mostly just bitches about being sober and celibate. He pretends to hate it, but really, he secretly loves playing the martyr. It gets old after a while."

"What's being done to help the people?" Jaime asked, his mind still on the smallfolk.

"What is this? A small council meeting? Why do you care?"

"I spent a lot of time with the smallfolk after I escaped King's Landing. I've seen their plight firsthand, and I just want to make sure that everything that can be done for them is being done for them."

Bronn sighed heavily. "Look, if I give you an accounting of all the charitable projects your brother has in place to help the poor and the needy, will you please just shut the fuck up about it for the rest of the night and get drunk with me?"

"For the rest of the night? It's only the middle of the afternoon."

"Well," Bronn said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purse, "I've got a bag of gold that says we can stay here all night." He threw the bag onto the table. "So, what do you say?"

Jaime stared at the bag of gold. Suddenly, it didn't look as small as it had a moment earlier. It was going to take a long time to spend that much gold if all they did was drink beer for the rest of the night. But Jaime had nowhere else to go. His only alternatives were returning to the Red Keep or trying to escape King's Landing, and he knew Bronn was never going to let him escape. For better or for worse, his best option was staying there and drinking himself into a stupor. All at once, it didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

"Fine," Jaime said. "Tell me what I want to know and I'm yours for the night."

"Whoa," Bronn said, sitting back in his chair and putting some distance between them. "I didn't ask for that. All the ladies might wanna fuck you, but you're just not my type."

"You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I know what you meant." Bronn lifted his tankard and downed nearly half his beer. When he lowered the tankard again, he said, "So, here it is."

Bronn spent the next half hour filling Jaime in on everything that was being done for the citizens of King's Landing. Tyrion had made sure that food stores were being equitably distributed amongst everyone in the city. Supplies were coming in from all Six Kingdoms on a daily basis, though it never quite seemed to be enough. Every able-bodied man, woman, and child had been given the opportunity to work in exchange for food, and there was an active effort, not just to clean up the city and rebuild, but to create a sewer system beneath its streets to ensure the health of the citizenry. It was slow going, but it was going. And once things were settled in King's Landing, the small council intended to turn its efforts outward toward the countryside and beyond.

"Is that enough for ya?" Bronn asked as he finally finished, lifting up his tankard and downing the rest of his beer.

"I suppose, though I wish more was being done for the rest of the Six Kingdoms and not just King's Landing."

"Things are bad enough in King's Landing. Let's handle one problem at a time." Bronn turned his attention to a passing serving wench and raised his hand. "Two more beers."

Jaime watched as the dark-haired beauty winked at Bronn. She left the table without even a glance in Jaime's direction.

"Well, how the tides have turned," Jaime said with a bitter laugh.

Bronn looked at him again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just, I remember a time when every woman in the room had eyes only for me, and you found it quite irritating. Now, it seems to be the other way around, doesn't it? I haven't gotten a single glance since the moment we stepped into this tent."

"And why should you have? You look like shit, and you're clearly broke. You may still have a pretty face, but things being the way they are here in King's Landing, power and wealth trump pretty and poor every day."

Jaime shook his head and lifted his tankard again, downing the rest of his beer in one swig. By the time he was done, the serving wench had returned with another round. She put the flagons on the table, took a couple of coins from Bronn, and then ran her hand down his thigh before walking away. It was obvious from the look in her eyes that she was hoping to do more than just serve him drinks before the end of the night.

The girl left the table, and Jaime's eyes followed her, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. He wondered what Brienne was doing at that very moment and how she would be spending the night. There wasn't another woman in all the world that Jaime wanted to be with, but he knew he could never be with Brienne again.

"Don't tell me you're jealous," Bronn said with a laugh.

"What?" Jaime pulled his eyes away from the girl and looked at Bronn. He hadn't quite heard what Bronn had accused him of.

"I've already staked my claim on her. If you want one, pick one of the others. Hell, as a welcome home present, I'll even pay for it."

Jaime shook his head. "No, no thank you."

"Yeah, didn't think so. You want something a lot blonder and a lot taller, don't you?"

Jaime didn't dignify that with a response. He just picked up the new tankard the girl had left for him and raised it up. "I thought you said we were going to drink. So, let's drink."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The next morning dawned far too early for Brienne. She'd had a dreadful night, tossing and turning and thinking about Jaime until the sun had come shining through her window. She'd barely slept, and as she made her way to the small council chamber, she struggled to keep her eyes open.

Late in the night, buried beneath the covers, Brienne had cried her heart out. She'd cried out her anger and her despair, and even her joy. Because although she was furiously angry with Jaime for letting her believe that he was dead, there was still a part of her that was overjoyed that he was alive. Just the day before, she had thought she would never see his face again, never hear his voice, never get lost in his eyes. But now, none of that was true. She had seen his face, heard his voice, lost herself in him the moment their eyes had met. And she was grateful for all of it, even if she had no desire to ever see him again. After everything that had happened between them, everything Jaime had done, just knowing that he was alive was enough for Brienne, even if their paths never crossed again.

Of course, Brienne knew that Tyrion had commanded Jaime to stay at the Red Keep, but she hoped that didn't mean she would have to see him. The last Brienne had heard, Jaime had been locked away in the Tower of the Hand with a detachment of guards at his chamber door, and she secretly hoped that he was still there.

As Brienne approached the small council chamber, she heard voices chatting within, but she paid no mind to what they were saying. It sounded very much like Davos and Bronn were arguing again, which was certainly nothing new. Ser Davos Seaworth was the epitome of honor and duty, and despite all his lofty titles, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was the exact opposite. Sometimes, it was fun to watch them argue, but most of the time, it just made small council meetings drag on longer than was strictly necessary.

Brienne entered the room to find Davos, Bronn, and Samwell Tarly already sitting around the long table waiting for Lord Tyrion. And next to Bronn, in Brienne's usual seat, she found an unexpected guest . . . Jaime Lannister.

Brienne's feet faltered, and she stopped halfway to the table as the room fell silent around her. She stared at Jaime, and he stared right back, though there was no bravado in his gaze. He looked as miserable as she felt. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was pale. He looked much worse than he had the day before, and Brienne wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't slept or because he'd spent the night drinking. Either way, she didn't feel the least bit sorry for him.

Had Jaime been sitting anywhere else but in her chair, Brienne wouldn't have said anything. But she was proud of the place she had earned at the small council table, and she wasn't going to let anyone take it away from her, especially not Jaime Lannister.

"What is he doing here?" Brienne asked, her eyes locked on Jaime.

Bronn pushed his chair away from the table and casually leaned back to gaze up at Brienne. "He's on the small council now. He's the new Master of War."

Brienne's eyes darted to Bronn. There was no mistaking the shit-eating grin on his face. He'd meant it, every single word.

"You can't be serious," Brienne replied, barely able to catch her breath.

"Oh, I'm more than serious. Seems his brother thinks he'd be a good fit for the title, and as you and I well know, there's no arguing with Tyrion when he gets something like this stuck up his ass."

Brienne's blood heated in her veins, and she could feel her cheeks turning red. Although Jaime Lannister was brother to the Hand of the King, that didn't mean he belonged on the small council. During the battle for King's Landing, Jaime had been a traitor to the cause. He'd turned on Daenerys Targaryen and the northern forces at the last possible moment. He had consorted with the enemy, tried to help Cersei escape, and then he'd returned to King's Landing to be rewarded by his brother? It wasn't fair, and Brienne had half a mind to tell Tyrion just that.

"But we've done just fine without a Master of War for six months," Brienne said, thinking it was the safest, most rational thing she could say. "Why do we need one now?"

"Because I said so," Tyrion replied as he entered the room behind her.

Brienne didn't even bother to turn around and look at Tyrion. She was afraid he would see the anger in her eyes. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the empty chair at the head of the table, waiting for him to reach it. She inhaled a steadying breath and willed her emotions under control. By the time Tyrion climbed up into his chair, her true feelings were safely hidden behind an air of absolute calm.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Hand," Brienne said, her tone even, "but for the past six months, I have been your advisor on military matters, and I believe I have done the job quite well."

"And indeed, you have," Tyrion answered, meeting her gaze without any resentment or malice, "but you are Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and it is wrong for you to have to do twice the work of everyone else. My brother is a seasoned military veteran, and he is more than capable of being Master of War."

"Yes, my lord, but—"

Tyrion held up a hand, stopping her before she could go any further. "I understand your concerns, Lord Commander, and your objections. And they are all duly noted. But I have made up my mind on the matter, and King Bran has approved the appointment, so as of this morning, Ser Jaime is now a member of the small council."

Brienne wanted to protest but knew it would be pointless. Tyrion had made his decision, and nothing she did or said was going to change his mind.

For one irrational moment, Brienne was tempted to resign her post, to give up her position on the small council and return to Winterfell to serve Queen Sansa, but she didn't want to give Tyrion or Jaime the satisfaction of seeing her turn tail and run. Although Jaime's presence on the small council made Brienne highly uncomfortable, she was too strong to let him chase her away. She had worked hard to become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and she refused to give it up for anyone.

Brienne turned away from Tyrion, being careful not to look at Jaime again. She considered asking him to vacate her seat but knew her request would only be met with derisive laughter from Bronn. So instead, she turned to her right and pulled back the chair next to Sam, sitting down and keeping her eyes on the head of the table, determined not to look at Jaime no matter how sorely she was tempted.

Tyrion cleared his throat and finally began the meeting.

After nearly six months of planning, work was about to begin on the sewer system that Tyrion had proposed during their very first council meeting. Supplies were being brought in from all over the realm, and even from across the Narrow Sea, to aid in the construction. Although the city's food stores were still low, provisions were also being imported from beyond the capital to help shore up their reserves. Feeding the people of King's Landing seemed to be a never-ending battle, but somehow, the small council was managing to keep people fed, even if their bellies weren't always full.

There was some arguing between Bronn and Davos regarding the royal navy, but Brienne only barely listened. Even though she hadn't looked at Jaime since she'd first entered the room, she had felt his eyes upon her the whole time. She wondered if it had been his idea to join the small council or if Tyrion had arranged it. Brienne had never thought of Jaime as a particularly ambitious man. He'd always been more concerned with protecting those he loved than with his own glory, so she was fairly certain it had been Tyrion's idea to make him Master of War. Brienne wondered if Jaime hated it just as much as she did.

Unable to fight her curiosity any longer, Brienne's gaze moved to Jaime. The instant she turned her eyes in his direction, he looked away.

Brienne examined Jaime from across the table. Although he was sitting dutifully in his seat – _her_ seat – watching Tyrion, his shoulders were slumped and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that moment but the small council chamber. Brienne hadn't noticed it the day before, but Jaime had lost considerable weight since she'd last seen him, and he didn't look at all well. He looked as if he'd been starved and was in need of a hearty meal and some fresh air. He looked like he could use a friend.

Brienne bit the inside of her lip and looked at Tyrion again, hating herself for having even a single tender thought for the man who had broken her heart and lied about being dead for six long months. He hadn't even spoken a word to her that morning, and already, she was in danger of falling for his charms. She silently swore to herself, then and there, that she would never let that happen again.

Brienne did her best to focus her attention on the meeting, but the voices around her just seemed to bleed into each other as she tried to ignore the man sitting across from her. She didn't feel his eyes upon her again, but she was ever conscious of his presence in the room. It was as if she could feel her heart beating in time with his, and it was driving her just a little bit mad.

"Lord Commander."

Brienne heard someone call to her, and it took her a moment to realize who it was. She blinked the confusion from her eyes and refocused her attention on Tyrion. "Yes, Lord Hand?"

"Since our new Master of War has been away from King's Landing for so long and is not familiar with what has occurred in his absence, after we are done here, I would like you to meet privately with him and apprise him of the current state of our military affairs."

"I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"That really isn't necessary," Jaime interjected, speaking for the first time that morning.

Brienne resisted the urge to look at him, keeping her eyes on Tyrion instead.

But Tyrion turned away from her to look at Jaime. "I think it is quite necessary. No one knows the intricacies of our military affairs better than Lady Brienne."

"I'd wager you know them just as well," Jaime countered, obviously not wanting to be alone with her any more than she wanted to be alone with him.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Tyrion said with a shrug. "Either way, I have better things to do with my time than train you in your new position. Since Lady Brienne was acting Master of War before you arrived, she is more than qualified to train you. I leave the job to her, and that is final."

Brienne cast a sidelong glance at Jaime. He looked just as annoyed as she felt. Even though she was certain there was very little they could agree on anymore, she was sure they could both agree that Tyrion was being a manipulative ass.

"Lady Brienne," Tyrion said, drawing her eyes back to him, "do you have any further objections?"

Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but Tyrion didn't give her a chance to reply.

"You don't?" he said, answering the question for her. "Well, that's wonderful. In that case, this meeting is adjourned."

Tyrion pushed his chair away from the table and stood, forcing the rest of the small council members to stand as well.

"Oh, and just to make things easier," Tyrion said as an afterthought, still looking at Brienne, "I took the liberty of having the afternoon meal served in your quarters so that you and Jaime can work through lunch undisturbed."

The blood rushed to Brienne's cheeks, and Ser Bronn laughed at her misfortune. Tyrion, however, didn't say another word. He just turned and left the small council chamber.

"Well, that's one way to get the two of you together, isn't it?" Bronn said.

Brienne skewered him with her eyes, but it only made him laugh harder.

"Just don't hit him so hard next time," Bronn advised. "Look at him." He nodded toward Jaime. "There's hardly anything left of him. You just might break him in two."

Bronn gave Brienne a knowing look before turning around and ambling out of the room, leaving her and Jaime alone with Davos and Sam

Sam cleared his throat, the sound ending on an awkward little laugh. "Well, Ser Jaime, now that you are the new Master of War, if there is anything you need, please, don't hesitate to ask. I'm sure I won't be as much help as Lady Brienne, but I will do all I can."

Jaime nodded in Sam's direction but didn't say anything in reply.

"All right then," Sam said, "I'll be in my chambers if you need me." He glanced at Brienne, bobbing his head in a courteous gesture before scurrying from the room.

"Ser Jaime," Davos said, "I know this may not feel like the right time, but someone should welcome you to the small council. Although you and I have not always fought on the same side, you are an accomplished soldier, and I, for one, welcome your experience and expertise. Gods know, the Six Kingdoms are in such a sorry state, we can use all the help we can get."

"Thank you, Ser Davos," Jaime replied. "I shall endeavor to serve the realm as best I can."

Davos cast a quick glance at Brienne, offering her a reassuring smile before excusing himself and leaving the room.

The chamber was deathly quiet as Brienne and Jaime stood on opposite sides of the table, refusing to look at each other. Brienne knew she was acting like a scorned woman, letting her emotions get the best of her, but she couldn't quite help herself. She hadn't asked to work with Jaime Lannister. In fact, after their encounter the day before, she had hoped never to see him again. But now, they were being thrown together, whether they liked it or not, and she had no choice but to face him.

Brienne turned and looked at Jaime again. She found him staring at the floor, looking very much defeated, but she refused to feel the least bit sorry for him. Unlike her, he had earned his punishment, and she would not pity him.

Jaime must have felt her watching him because he slowly raised his head and met her gaze. Brienne's heart skipped a beat the instant their eyes met, and she forced herself not to react. She didn't want to give Jaime the satisfaction of knowing that he affected her in any way.

"Brienne, you must know that—"

"Lord Tyrion has commanded us to meet in my quarters to discuss military affairs," she said, cutting him off. "It is our duty to do as the Hand of the King has instructed. Are you coming? Or are you planning to just stand there all day feeling sorry for yourself?"

"No, I'll come," Jaime said. "After all, what choice do I have? It seems Tyrion is determined to make something happen that simply cannot happen."

Brienne knew Jaime was right. And suddenly, she started to question everything Tyrion had ever done for her, including appointing her Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Tyrion had to have known, or at least hoped, that Jaime would one day return, and no doubt, he had appointed her to the small council just to put her in Jaime's path. Brienne hated being manipulated. Men had been trying to manipulate her in one way or another her entire life. The only saving grace in this sad little scenario was that she wasn't the only one Tyrion was trying to manipulate. He was trying to manipulate Jaime as well.

"I'm sure your brother will learn, sooner rather than later, that this scheme of his isn't going to work," Brienne replied. "In the meantime, we have no choice but to do as we're told. Unless, of course, you are willing to resign your post as Master of War and leave King's Landing."

"If I could, I would. But Tyrion is determined to keep me here for the time being, and I have little choice in the matter. Besides, I have nowhere else to go."

Jaime looked like a dog that had been starved and mistreated. He looked like all he needed, all he wanted, was for someone to love him. But Brienne refused to offer him any comfort. She knew he wasn't acting, knew that he truly felt remorseful for everything he had done, but it was all too little, too late. Jaime had already had his chance with her, and he'd thrown it all away for Cersei.

Brienne didn't even offer Jaime a reply. She just turned around and headed toward the door, listening as he fell into step behind her.


	9. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I'm posting the same Author's Note here that I posted on Chapter 16 of "The Bastard of Winterfell," so some of you may have already seen it.

Since I'll be spending the majority of this week at the annual Romance Writers of America conference, I won't have any time for editing, which means that the next chapter of this story is going to be delayed. Instead of posting a week from now, it's more likely that I'll post in two weeks. I'm so sorry, but I think it's going to be unavoidable. I will do my best to reply to comments before I leave, but if for some reason I'm unable to do that, please know that I will reply to everyone once I've gotten home and had a chance to recuperate.

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Chapter Eight

Jaime followed Brienne from the small council chamber, keeping a steady pace behind her. He wanted to strangle Tyrion, to wrap his one good hand around his brother's throat and choke the life out of him. He knew what Tyrion was doing – a blind man could have seen what Tyrion was doing. He was pushing Jaime and Brienne together, despite the fact that Brienne wanted nothing to do with him. Jaime didn't blame her, of course. How could he? She was right. He was wretched, and she deserved a great deal better.

By the time Jaime and Brienne reached the White Sword Tower, the afternoon meal was already waiting for them. It was a modest offering, particularly in comparison to the feast that had awaited Jaime upon his arrival, but it hardly mattered because Jaime wasn't hungry in the least. He knew there was work to do, and all he wanted was to be done with it so that he could get out of Brienne's way as quickly as possible.

As soon as they entered the chamber, Brienne moved to the far side of the small table in the center of the room. The table was usually reserved for work, not for dining, but Tyrion had completely ignored that fact.

Brienne sat down, and Jaime took the empty chair opposite her. If she had wanted to work – to show him ledgers and maps, facts and figures – there was no room to do so. The table had been laid out with a full assortment of plates and utensils. There were even two flickering candles and some flowers in the center of the arrangement as if Tyrion had wanted the meal to seem almost romantic.

Brienne stared at the little cluster of purple flowers, a frown furrowing her brow.

Despite his insecurities, Jaime broke the awkward silence between them. "I'd like to apologize—"

"Don't," Brienne said, her eyes darting up to meet his. She was still frowning, and Jaime was certain that was a look he was going to see quite often in the coming days, weeks, and years. "I don't want to hear how sorry you are."

"I wasn't apologizing for me," Jaime replied. "I was apologizing for my ass of a brother. This," Jaime said, lifting the flowers from the vase, "this is just obscene. Would you like me to discard them?"

Brienne's eyes narrowed on him as if she was carefully contemplating her answer. If she said yes, she'd be asking him a favor. But if she said no, they'd have to continue to suffer Tyrion's ridiculous attempt at creating a romantic atmosphere in the middle of the White Sword Tower. Either way, Brienne would lose, and Brienne hated to lose, especially to an opponent she believed to be unworthy of her.

"Leave them be," Brienne finally said, as if she would rather bear the indignity of sharing a romantic meal with him than dare ask him a favor.

Jaime put the flowers back in the vase and slipped his hand under the table, feeling like a child who had just been scolded for trying to do something good. "Well, in that case, perhaps we should just get on with it. I'm not terribly hungry, but you, go ahead and eat."

Brienne's eyes stayed on Jaime as she reached for the flagon of wine by her side. She poured herself half a glass, and then, she leaned across the table to fill Jaime's cup.

He quickly put his hand over the top of his glass, stopping her before she could pour. "I told you, I have no appetite, for either food or wine."

"Lord Tyrion commanded us to eat, so we will eat. Besides, I don't fancy sitting here for the next half hour eating my lunch while you stare woefully down at your lap like a kicked puppy."

Jaime's mouth gaped open in horror. "I do not look like a kicked puppy."

"Of course, you do. And if you think I'm going to fall for that, think I'm going to feel sorry for you, you can think again. Now," Brienne said, staring pointedly at his glass, "move your hand or prepare to have half a flagon of wine poured over it. It's your choice."

Jaime reluctantly pulled his hand away, and Brienne filled his glass to the rim. He had no intention of drinking the entire thing, though he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to take just a sip. He'd had far too much to drink the night before, and he was still nursing a bad headache. He would have slept straight through the morning if Tyrion hadn't appointed him to the bloody small council.

Brienne put the flagon down and began filling her plate. Jaime didn't want her reprimanding him again, so he did the same. He only took the lightest fare, his stomach still unaccustomed to the rich dishes favored in the capital. Jaime knew it was going to be a long time before his appetite returned to what it once had been.

They ate in silence, the air around them so full of unspoken tension that Jaime thought it might drive him mad. Every time he lifted his glass to take a sip of wine, he stole a glance at Brienne, but she kept her eyes purposefully averted, eating her meal as if she were completely alone.

Jaime hated what had become of them. Six months earlier, Brienne of Tarth had been the closest thing he had ever known to a true friend. She had trusted him, cared for him – maybe even loved him. And he had thrown it all away in a single night. Of course, he'd had good reason at the time – more than good reason – but now, none of it seemed worth it. He knew he should have stayed at Winterfell when he'd had the chance. He should have left Cersei's fate up to Daenerys Targaryen and her one remaining dragon. After all, in the end, it had been Daenerys who had ended Cersei's life. Jaime's presence in the Red Keep hadn't made the slightest bit of difference.

"Must you stare like that?" Brienne said, her eyes finally meeting Jaime's.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't realized I was staring."

"What are you thinking?" Brienne asked. "That you're lucky you didn't stay at Winterfell and end up beholden to me for the rest of your life? That would have been a great tragedy, wouldn't it have?"

"No," Jaime said softly. "That wouldn't have been a tragedy at all."

"Really? Do you truly believe that, or are you just trying to pander to my vanity so that you can feel better about yourself?"

"I'm not pandering to anything," Jaime replied, lowering his glass to the table. "I'm sorry that I ever left Winterfell. If I could go back—"

"But you can't go back. None of us can. And even if we could, what good would it do us? I'd still know what kind of man you really are. I'd still know where your heart truly lies."

Jaime felt a hollow ache in his chest. There was so much he longed to say to Brienne, so much he wanted to explain, needed to explain, but he knew she was in no condition to hear him out. She would barely let him say that he was sorry, much less allow him to offer an explanation.

"I'm not expecting you to forgive me," Jaime said. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. But since we have to work together, maybe we should try to find a way to put the past behind us, at least for now, and do what has to be done."

Brienne squared her shoulders, her chin inching just a little bit higher. "I have no intention of shirking my duties. If we must serve together on the small council, then so be it. I have sworn my loyalty to King Bran, and I will not fail him, regardless of how I feel about you."

"Well, then, at least that's one thing we can agree on. That's certainly more than I expected."

Brienne turned away from him then and went back to her meal. They continued on in silence, though some of the tension had drained from the room. After a few minutes, Brienne looked at Jaime again and surprised him by asking, "What do you know about the current military might of the Six Kingdoms?"

"I . . . I don't know much," Jaime answered. "I know how things stood when I left King's Landing six months ago, but I'm sure much has changed since then. I have heard that both the Unsullied and the Dothraki left Westeros not long after their queen was killed. I know that, at the time, that was the bulk of the northern army, though I would imagine that the Lannister forces have joined the fold since then."

"What there is of them," Brienne replied. "Unfortunately, Daenerys Targaryen decimated the Lannister army and destroyed the Golden Company, not that King Bran would have chosen to make use of them. The royal navy is in tatters, though new ships have already been rebuilt. But the biggest problem for all our forces is recruitment. There aren't many families that are willing to send their young men to King's Landing to become soldiers. The older houses that still survive, want to keep their heirs close to home, and with nothing but poverty and destruction in the capital, it's very difficult to induce anyone to visit, much less stay."

"Surely, it can't be that bad," Jaime said. "What kind of numbers are we talking about? How weak are the crown's forces?"

Brienne began reciting numbers, and for a moment, Jaime forgot that there was any rift between them at all. He was surprised to find that the realm's forces were in such a sorry state. But then, so many men had died fighting in pointless wars over the past decade that it was no wonder there was hardly anyone left to replace them.

When Brienne was done giving him a full accounting of the situation, Jaime said, "Well, I suppose it could be worse."

"And it could be better." Brienne rested her arms on the table and leaned in closer. "So tell me, Ser Jaime, what are you going to do about it?"

There was challenge in the question, and Jaime wasn't quite sure that he was up to the task of answering it, at least not yet.

"I've just returned to King's Landing," he said. "There's a lot more I have to familiarize myself with before I formulate a plan. But I will find a way to replenish our forces since it is now my duty to do so. You have my word."

Brienne snorted and leaned back in her chair. Jaime knew she didn't believe him. His word was worthless to her now, more worthless than it had been when he'd been her prisoner on their journey to King's Landing.

"It's going to take more than your word to rebuild our forces," Brienne said. "It's going to take a clever mind and hard work. I dare say, I don't quite know if you're up to the task."

"And what have you done to improve the situation?" Jaime asked before he could stop himself. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize Brienne, but he'd forgotten himself for a moment.

"At my direction, Lord Tyrion has implemented an incentive program for all young men willing to join our ranks. What gold and supplies we have been able to spare have gone toward recruitment. It hasn't made a large impact, but it has almost doubled our forces. I think, under the circumstances, that is more than anyone could have hoped for in such a short amount of time. Without paying for foreign mercenaries, of course."

"Like the Golden Company?"

"Yes. That was a giant waste of Lannister gold, wasn't it?" Brienne replied, derision in her voice.

"Not my idea at all, I assure you."

"Really? I thought you and your sister were of one mind in everything. Isn't that right?"

Jaime's eyes narrowed on Brienne. "If you want to talk about my sister, we'll talk about my sister. But if we do, that means you have to hear me out, you have to hear everything I have to say without interrupting me before I finish."

"And what makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?"

"I know you're angry, Brienne."

"Don't call me that," she said curtly. "It's Lord Commander, or Ser Brienne, if you must."

"All right, _Ser_ Brienne," Jaime said, choosing the title he himself had given her. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be angry. But if we are going to be forced to work together, I think we should clear the air between us first. I think it would be better for both of us."

"You don't have any idea what's best for me, Jaime Lannister. You obviously never knew me at all, so don't start pretending now."

"I'm not pretending. I know that I hurt you. I wanted to hurt you."

Brienne laughed, the sound painfully bitter. "Oh, is that supposed to make it all right then? Just because you can admit that you set out to hurt me, doesn't mean that I have to forgive you."

"I had to hurt you," he said, ignoring her words. "It was the only way to make you stay away, to keep you from following me to King's Landing, to keep you out of danger."

Brienne's eyes bored into him, and Jaime could see that his words hadn't had the effect he'd intended. Brienne was furious, and she was doing her utmost to rein in her temper.

"You . . . _you_ wanted to keep _me_ out of danger? Me? Ser Brienne of Tarth? Lord Commander of the Kingsguard? You thought you were protecting me?"

"Yes. Yes, I did." Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling very much like a fool. Brienne made all his good intentions just sound absurd.

"And what, pray tell, were you protecting me from? Your sister's army, or watching you fall into your sister's arms?"

Brienne's voice broke on the last word, and Jaime could see how much she was struggling with her emotions. It was obvious that she wasn't over his betrayal, obvious that she still had strong feelings for him, whatever they were. He wanted to help her, not hurt her, but he was doing a terrible job of it.

Jaime slowly leaned forward in his chair, doing his best not to spook her. They were finally talking, finally getting things out in the open, and he didn't want to give Brienne any excuse to retreat. He wanted to explain, as best he could, before she suffered a single moment longer.

"I was protecting you from Cersei, from her wrath, from her jealousy."

Brienne's eyes clouded with confusion, and she searched his face, clearly trying to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about?"

"Cersei. Had you followed me, had we gone to King's Landing together, she would have seen, in an instant, how I felt about you, and she would have turned her vengeance on you. She was not a kind woman, nor a generous one. She was selfish, territorial, cruel. I didn't want you to be her next target. I didn't want her to end your life as payment for my betrayal."

"Your betrayal?" Brienne laughed again. "You may have turned your back on Cersei when you left King's Landing, but you went back to her in the end, and that's all that matters."

"No, that isn't all that matters."

"Of course, it is, and if you expect me to believe differently, then you must think I'm a fool. And I can assure you, Jaime Lannister, that I am no fool. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Brienne pushed her chair away from the table and abruptly stood.

Jaime quickly scrambled to his feet. Miserable wretch that he was, he was still a gentleman, and he could not stay seated in the presence of a lady.

Brienne shook her head. "You need not stand on my account. I know what you think of me. There's no reason to pretend otherwise."

Jaime pulled back his shoulders and lifted his head, staring Brienne straight in the eye. "I think you are the bravest, kindest, most capable person I have ever known. And I'm sorry that you refused to accept me into the Kingsguard because it would have been an honor to serve under you. But since you didn't, then I am grateful that Tyrion appointed me to the small council because it means I get to serve beside you, and that is more than I deserve."

"You're right. It is more than you deserve." Brienne turned abruptly and headed toward the door. Before she reached the hallway, she stopped and looked at Jaime over her shoulder. "I've told you all I can about our military affairs. If you need anything further, you can speak directly to Lord Tyrion. And please, tell him, if he ever tries anything like this again, he can go fuck himself."

Brienne turned without another word and disappeared into the hallway, leaving the door open behind her, an obvious sign that she wanted Jaime to leave.

The instant she was gone, Jaime exhaled a defeated sigh and sank back down into his chair. He stared out into the room without seeing anything around him. He had tried so hard to explain himself, and he had failed miserably. He knew he could have done a much better job of it – spoken more bluntly, explained things differently, forced her to listen – but he had thought that a gentle approach would be best under the circumstances, though he'd obviously been wrong. Jaime didn't know if and when Brienne would give him a chance to speak to her so frankly again, but he promised himself, if she did, the next time, he wouldn't waste it.


	10. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay between chapters. Real life has been difficult lately, and it has interfered with my ability to post. I still have every intention of finishing this fic, it's just going to take longer than I expected.

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Chapter Nine

Brienne stormed down the corridor, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Jaime as possible. She had half a mind to hunt Tyrion down and tell him that she resigned her post. Jaime Lannister had only been back in her life for one day, and already, she found herself barely able to function. Brienne didn't like losing her temper, she didn't like losing control, but whenever Jaime was around, she simply couldn't help herself. Her anger was still too raw. She hadn't had enough time to come to terms with Jaime's reappearance, and her emotions were getting the better of her.

What did Jaime mean, he had hurt her to protect her? That was the most ludicrous thing Brienne had ever heard. She didn't need protecting. Not from Jaime, not from Cersei, not from anyone. Jaime could claim all he wanted that he had kept her from going to King's Landing to protect her from Cersei, but the more likely truth was that he had kept her from going to King's Landing to protect Cersei from her.

Of course, Brienne doubted she would ever have been able to kill Cersei Lannister herself, even if she'd been given the chance. It wasn't because she felt any fondness for the Lannister queen. It was because, deep down inside, she knew what Cersei meant to Jaime – what Cersei had always meant to Jaime – and she didn't think she had it in her to wound him so deeply. There were very few people Brienne had ever truly loved – her father, Renly, Catelyn Stark and her children, and Jaime Lannister. That was it. And even after Jaime's betrayal, she still wasn't capable of hurting him. She knew it was a failing on her part, her greatest weakness, but at least she was brave enough to admit it.

Brienne was halfway to the Tower of the Hand before she realized where she was going. She stopped dead in her tracks and took a moment to take stock of herself. Her breath was coming in rapid bursts, her heart beating an uneven rhythm, and her cheeks burned with agitation. If anyone had chanced upon her just then, they would have found her all out of sorts, and she wouldn't have been able to live down the embarrassment. She was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. She needed to appear in control at all times. To be any other way would be a disgrace to her station.

Brienne inhaled a long, slow breath, willing her body to relax. When she finally exhaled, her shoulders slumped and her heartbeat slowed, and she knew she was finally in control. She turned around and began walking slowly back toward the White Sword Tower, determined to go about her daily business just as she always did. There were letters to answer and guard assignments to schedule. She still had much to occupy her time with, even if Jaime would be taking over some of her regular duties now that he was Master of War.

It wasn't long before Brienne found herself alone in her chamber, sitting at her desk, enjoying the quiet solitude. There was a letter waiting from Winterfell, a scroll that had arrived just that morning. Brienne and Sansa often wrote to each other. Although their letters were mostly of an official nature, there was an easiness between them, a friendliness, that Brienne valued greatly. Despite the fact that she was queen, or perhaps because of it, Sansa was terribly lonely, just as lonely as Brienne, and the friendship between them had only deepened as they'd shared their profound sense of loneliness through their letters.

Of course, Brienne and Sansa had always been close in an odd sort of way. Brienne had been Sansa's sworn sword, had stood by her in the worst of times, had been all too willing to give her life for the Lady of Winterfell. But it was more than that. Sansa was alone now. Bran was King of Westeros, Jon was at the Wall – or north of the Wall, if reports were correct – and Arya was on her way to the other side of the world. Sansa had once told Brienne that her father had been fond of saying, _When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives_. But now, with winter over, the pack had scattered, and the lone wolf left at Winterfell was floundering. Oh, Sansa had not faltered in her duties as Queen in the North, but she was struggling to keep her spirits up, to keep her loneliness from eating away at her day after day. Brienne knew that Tyrion wrote to Sansa every other morning – everyone knew – but even that wasn't enough, which was why Brienne wrote to her whenever she could.

Brienne picked up the letter and broke the seal. Leaning back in her chair, she unfurled the parchment and began to read:

_Dear Brienne,_

_Although I have scarcely been queen for six months, the northern lords have already decided that I should take a husband to ensure the future of northern independence. They fear, should anything happen to me before I am able to take a husband and produce an heir, that King Bran will send an army northward to reclaim our kingdom. _

_As you know, I have no desire to marry again, but I have no choice but to at least consider their request. The northern lords have compiled a list of prospective suitors for my consideration. I fear I am not keen on any of my choices, but that may have more to do with my reluctance to wed than with any failing in the gentlemen themselves. I have included the list in hopes of asking you for a favor. There is no one in all of Westeros who is more knowledgeable on such matters than Lord Tyrion. I would like his opinion on each of my potential suitors, but since he was once my husband himself and the situation is a delicate one, I cannot bring myself to ask him outright. Could you, dearest Brienne, find a way to ascertain Lord Tyrion's opinion on the matter without letting him know that I requested it? I am sure you understand why I am reluctant to inquire with him directly, and I hope that you can do me this kindness as I struggle to decide the course of my future._

_Sincerely,_

_Sansa Stark, Queen in the North_

Brienne stared at the letter, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Yes, she understood very well why Sansa was reluctant to ask Tyrion for help. Sansa was just as smitten with Tyrion as Tyrion was with Sansa, but neither one of them was willing to admit it. Tyrion refused to admit it because he felt himself unworthy of the Queen in the North, and Sansa was unwilling to admit it because she feared the northern lords would not approve of her choice. Even if Tyrion and Sansa did confess their feelings for one another, remarrying would be no easy task. Bran had given Tyrion a life sentence by making him Hand, and Sansa would face a great deal of opposition from her people if she tried to make Tyrion Lannister her husband again. And yet, that didn't stop the two of them from writing to each other every other day and secretly pining in silence.

Although Brienne knew it wasn't her place, she secretly hoped that things would work out between Sansa and Tyrion. She wanted to see Sansa happy, and she knew that Tyrion was the only man in all of Westeros who Sansa truly trusted. Sansa Stark deserved a marriage based on trust and mutual admiration, not a marriage based on duty and obligation. She had married for duty twice before. She deserved something different this time. She deserved to finally make her own choice.

Brienne moved Sansa's letter aside, finding a second piece of parchment beneath it containing the list of suitors. There were half a dozen names written in elegant letters, among them Robin Arryn and Gendry Baratheon. Brienne shook her head, already having made up her mind on both candidates. Robin Arryn was far too weak-willed to ever be Sansa Stark's consort, and Gendry Baratheon was still desperately in love with Lady Arya, though he had not once spoken her name on his frequent visits to King's Landing. Sansa deserved better than a boy who couldn't speak his own mind and a man who had already shared her sister's bed. She deserved a man of her own. She deserved an equal.

Brienne leaned forward in her chair and put down the list. Then, she opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out her own sheet of parchment. She picked up her quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and began to write.

_Your Grace,_

_Although I am a subject of the Six Kingdoms, I am ever loyal to all those who bear the Stark name, and I will be more than happy to grant the favor you requested. It may take some time for me to make the necessary inquiries on your behalf, but as soon as I have an answer, I will send a raven straight away. _

Brienne's hand stilled on the page, her letter incomplete. She wondered if she should tell Sansa about Jaime or leave it to Tyrion. There was a very good chance that Tyrion had already broken the news to Sansa in his latest letter, but Brienne knew Sansa would find it odd if she herself stayed silent on the subject. Sansa knew what had happened between Brienne and Jaime before he'd left for King's Landing, and it would likely seem strange to her if Brienne didn't at least acknowledge his reappearance.

Brienne thought for a moment before she refilled her pen and brought it down against the parchment again. She continued:

_On another matter, I am not sure if Lord Tyrion has already imparted the news, but a very peculiar thing has happened here at the Red Keep. Two nights ago, Jaime Lannister suddenly appeared in the capital looking like death itself. Though we all thought him dead, apparently, he was able to escape King's Landing after the Red Keep collapsed and has been living in a small village just beyond Storm's End. Now that he has returned, Lord Tyrion has appointed him to the small council, naming him Master of War. I don't quite know what to make of it all, but I have no choice but to trust that King Bran and his Lord Hand know what they are doing. I would not forgive Ser Jaime so easily myself, but then, the decision is not mine to make. I pray to the gods that he is the man they think he is and that he will be an asset to the Six Kingdoms._

_With warmest regards,_

_Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard_

Brienne reread the last paragraph of her letter, making sure that it was exactly what she wanted to say. Even though she could not express her emotions freely on parchment, she wanted to make certain that Sansa understood where she stood on the subject of Jaime's return. She was wary of him, and she could not bring herself to forgive him.

Determined not to overthink the matter, Brienne rolled up the scroll and quickly sealed it. Then, she committed the list of potential suitors to memory and locked it in the desk drawer, along with Sansa's letter. She didn't want anyone to know about the favor the queen had asked of her. It was a private matter, and she intended to keep it that way.

Just as Brienne was pocketing the key to the desk, there was a knock at the door. She straightened in her seat and turned her attention toward the sound. "Come in," she said in a calm, clear voice, knowing instinctually that it wasn't Jaime on the other side.

The door opened, and Podrick stepped into the room. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything."

"You're not," Brienne replied. "I was just finishing up a letter to Queen Sansa." Brienne picked up the sealed scroll and held it out toward Podrick. "Will you take this to the rookery as soon as you leave here? I would like it sent immediately."

"Yes, of course," Podrick said as he closed the door behind him and crossed the room. He stopped on the opposite side of the desk and took the scroll from Brienne.

"Now," she said, inching her chin just a little higher, "what is it that you've come about?"

"King Bran has requested your presence in his chambers. He said he wanted to have a private word with you."

Every muscle in Brienne's body tensed. Although there was nothing unusual about Bran requesting her presence for a private audience, she knew that, this time at least, the conversation wasn't going to be about security measures or military plans, it was going to be about Jaime Lannister. She was certain of it.

Brienne inhaled a steadying breath before pushing her chair away from the desk and rising. "I shall head to his chamber anon."

"Very good, my lady."

Brienne walked around the desk, expecting Podrick to follow her to the door, but he didn't move.

Brienne suddenly stopped. "Is something wrong, Pod?"

"No, my lady. Yes, my lady. I mean, nothing's wrong, I just—"

"What is it?"

"I heard what Lord Tyrion did this morning, forcing you to work with Ser Jaime. I can't imagine that was easy for you. And now, King Bran has called you to his chamber, and I'm certain he wants to talk about the new Master of War. It's just, I know where my loyalties lie, that's all, and I wanted you to know that."

Brienne's gaze softened, and she fought back the hint of a smile. If she'd ever had a little brother, she would have wanted him to be just like Podrick Payne. "I know where your loyalties lie, Podrick, and I thank you for that. Although I am none too pleased to be spending time with Jaime Lannister, it is my duty to do so, and I will suffer it as I must. I know you are concerned for me, but you needn't be. I am fine, and more than capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh, yes, I know. I hadn't meant to imply that you couldn't. I just wanted you to know that I understand, that's all."

Despite her determination to project an air of detachment, Brienne offered Podrick a reassuring smile. "I know that, Pod. Thank you. Now," she said, nodding toward the scroll in his hand, "take that to the rookery and return to your duties, and I will report to the king."

"Yes, my lady." Podrick bowed his head and slipped from the room.

Brienne followed after him, on her way to face King Bran the Broken.


	11. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I can't believe it's been nine months since I last updated this story. I am so sorry for the delay. I intended to start posting again as soon as I finished "The Bastard of Winterfell," but then the world pretty much went to hell and I've been finding it rather difficult to get anything done. I have FINALLY finished the first draft of this story, but I still have a lot of editing to do. It may be slow going, but I promise not to go another nine months without an update. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe through all this madness. ((HUGS))

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Chapter Ten

After leaving Brienne's chamber, Jaime had gone straight back to his room, determined to block out the rest of the world, Tyrion included. The instant he'd locked the door behind him, he'd collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling as if he could somehow find answers there.

Jaime was starting to think that accepting an appointment to the small council had been a grave mistake. He suddenly missed the small fishing village where he had spent the past six months: the smallfolk, the smell of the salt sea air, the simplicity of it all. But mostly, he missed the anonymity. He missed being a nameless wanderer, free of obligation to his family name. Sometimes, he hated being Jaime Lannister, hated being seen by everyone as nothing more than Tywin Lannister's son, or the brother of the King's Hand, or the lover of a tyrannical queen. Living in anonymity had been easy for Jaime, but facing his past was proving far more difficult.

Tired of staring up at the ceiling, Jaime allowed his gaze to drift toward the door. He wondered how difficult it would be to escape the Red Keep under Tyrion's watchful eye. He loved his brother, he truly did, but Tyrion's meddling had already gone too far. Although Jaime doubted there was anything he could do to stop Tyrion from interfering in his life, he at least had to try.

Determined to do more than just lie there brooding on the matter, Jaime forced himself up from the bed and crossed the floor. When he opened the door, he found two guards standing sentinel on the other side, and it took nearly all his willpower to keep from rolling his eyes. "I've been appointed Master of War," he said. "I'm on the small council, for gods' sakes. Is this really necessary?"

"We're here by order of the Hand," one of the guards replied. "Only he can relieve us of our duty."

Jaime inhaled a hard breath. When his nerves were calmer, he said, "In that case, follow me."

Jaime stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Then, he headed toward Tyrion's solar, hoping to settle the matter once and for all.

As Jaime walked, he heard the guards' steady footsteps behind him, and for the first time since his return, he wished he had a sword. When Daenerys Targaryen's soldiers had taken him captive six months earlier, they had relieved him of all his weapons, including Widow's Wail, and he had no idea what had become of his prized sword. He could only imagine that it was now somewhere across the Narrow Sea, being wielded by an Unsullied soldier.

Tyrion's door was closed when they finally reached it, but Jaime refused to let that deter him. Without bothering to knock, he reached for the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. He pushed the door open and barged right in, despite the protests of the men behind him.

"Who . . . who's there?" Tyrion stammered, the sound of his voice accompanied by the telltale rustling of parchment as he quickly stuffed something into his desk drawer.

Jaime closed the door and fixed his eyes on his brother as he crossed the room. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, no, of course not," Tyrion replied, pulling down nervously on the hem of his doublet and sitting up a little straighter in his chair. He looked quite guilty, though Jaime had no idea what he was guilty of.

"Really? Not scrambling to hide some evidence of foul deeds? You are a Lannister, after all. That is what we do, isn't it?" Jaime asked as he eased himself down into the chair across from Tyrion's and eyed him pointedly.

"I am not our father," Tyrion protested.

"Then what did you just hide away in that drawer? Plans to overthrow the king?"

"There's no need to overthrow the king. After all, it was my idea to appoint him in the first place."

"Your idea?"

"Yes, my idea. After I was arrested for helping you escape, for committing treason, I was thrown in a cell for gods only know how long. When I was finally released, I was led to the Dragonpit to meet with a select group of the surviving lords and ladies of Westeros. A council of surviving characters, if you will," Tyrion said with a laugh. "They needed a new sovereign, and since Jon Snow was no longer a viable option, I suggested that the council elect its next king, and Bran the Broken was the obvious choice."

Jaime was confused by just about everything Tyrion had said. He wanted clarification, but he wasn't sure quite where to start. "Why . . . why was Jon Snow ever a viable option to take the throne? I know he fought valiantly at the Battle of Winterfell and was elected King in the North, but how does any of that truly qualify him to rule Westeros?"

"You don't know?" Tyrion asked, his eyes narrowing curiously. He seemed genuinely intrigued by Jaime's ignorance.

"Should I know?"

Tyrion sighed. "I suppose not. I guess I thought that everyone knew, but then, what do the smallfolk really know of what goes on in the halls of the Red Keep?"

"What are you talking about?"

Tyrion leaned forward in his chair, and Jaime could tell by the look in his eyes that he was eager to share some great secret. "Jon Snow is not Jon Snow after all, but Aegon Targaryen, rightful son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, rightful heir to the throne."

Jaime stared at Tyrion in bewilderment. Not a single word his brother had said had made any sense. "How . . . how is that possible? Rhaegar was married to Elia Martell."

"He was," Tyrion said, "until he had the High Septon annul his marriage and ran off with Lyanna Stark. They were wed in secret, and Jon was born, not a bastard, but a Targaryen, with even more right to sit on the Iron Throne than the Dragon Queen herself."

Jaime was stunned by this news. He knew his brother had a flair for the dramatic, but even Tyrion couldn't make up a tale as fantastical as that one. It took Jaime a moment to take it all in, to figure out what it all meant. Finally, he said, "If that's true, then I can't imagine Daenerys Targaryen was too happy about it."

"She wasn't," Tyrion replied, easing back into his chair, "but Jon swore that he didn't want the throne, and she took him at his word because she loved him and he loved her."

"Really?" Jaime had never noticed a romantic connection between Jon Snow and the Dragon Queen, but then, he'd been so caught up in his own drama while at Winterfell that he wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Yes, really. They were lovers, and ultimately, it was Jon who killed her, for the good of Westeros."

"Yes," Jaime said, "I had heard that part. Everyone in Westeros knows who put an end to Daenerys Targaryen, and everyone knows why. But what I don't understand is why Jon isn't the one sitting on the throne now. Surely, assassinating a tyrant should not preclude him from taking his birthright."

"Ordinarily, it wouldn't. But before the Unsullied would leave Westeros, Grey Worm insisted that Jon be given a fitting punishment for what he did to Daenerys, so he was sent to the Wall to once again take the black."

"Does the Night's Watch even exist anymore?"

Tyrion laughed. "I'm not entirely sure. Jon did go north after he was released, but by all reports, he didn't stay long. Rumor has it that he followed the wildlings north of the Wall, and no one has heard from him since."

"I see I've missed a great deal, haven't I?"

"You have, but you have plenty of time to catch up. You've only been in King's Landing for two days now. Just give it some time." Tyrion reached across his desk to retrieve a half-empty flagon of wine. As he refilled the empty glass beside him, he asked, "Care for a drink?"

"No, I had more than enough last night, thank you very much."

"Yes, I heard," Tyrion said as he lifted his glass and took a sip, a knowing smile on his lips. "Bronn made sure you had a proper homecoming."

"Bronn made me drink until I couldn't see straight, and twelve hours later, I still have the headache to prove it. I think I'm done with drinking for a good long while."

"Well," Tyrion said with a shrug, finally lowering his glass, "it's probably for the best. You're on the small council now, and if you can't hold your liquor, you probably shouldn't be drinking in the first place."

"I can hold my liquor. That isn't the problem."

"Then what is the problem?" Tyrion asked, arching a brow in question. "How did things go with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"

"How did things go? She has a message for you. She told me to tell you, if you ever try anything like that again, you can go fuck yourself."

Tyrion laughed heartily at that, as if he found Brienne's threat genuinely amusing. "She is a spirited one, isn't she? You know, until she joined the small council, I honestly had no idea. She doesn't take shit from anyone. I can see why you like her so much."

"I do like her," Jaime replied, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on Tyrion, "and if you ever again do anything to embarrass her, or to meddle in her life, you can do more than just go fuck yourself. I will personally make sure that you pay for the privilege of offending her. Do you understand?"

Some of the amusement faded from Tyrion's eyes, and he seemed to grow an inch shorter. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I think I understand."

"Good," Jaime said as he eased himself back into his chair. "Because she's suffered enough, and she doesn't need you making her life any more difficult than it already is. It's bad enough that she has to sit across from me at the small council table every morning. She doesn't need you forcing me on her at every turn."

Tyrion stared down into his glass. "I was only trying to help."

"Well, don't. I don't need your help any more than you need mine."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Tyrion asked, raising his eyes to meet Jaime's again.

"It means that, just before I stepped into the room, you hid something in your desk drawer, and I have a fairly good idea what it was. Something to do with Sansa Stark, if I'm not mistaken."

Tyrion sighed heavily. He put down his glass and turned his attention to the drawer, opening it and pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. He smoothed out the paper in his hands as he looked up at Jaime again. "It's stupid, I know. I was just writing her a letter."

"Then why hide it? I hear you write to her every other day."

"Yes, I do, but this isn't a letter I intend to send. I do that sometimes, write letters to her that just end up in the fire, pour out my heart and soul to her even though I know she'll never reciprocate my feelings." Tyrion laughed, the sound bitter in his throat. "I think, more than ever now, I realize that love is nothing more than a curse, a cruel joke the gods like to play on us just to bring us mere mortals to our knees."

"Yes, I know that feeling," Jaime replied. "Far too well."

Tyrion eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry, Jaime. I wasn't trying to hurt you or Brienne. I meant what I said the other night. I honestly believe that Brienne still loves you, and I was just trying to help."

Jaime shook his head. "Maybe two days ago she still felt something for me. Maybe she still cared, in her own way, because she thought I was dead and it's far easier to love a ghost than it is to love the flesh and blood bastard who left you for his sister. But now that she knows I'm alive, now that she knows that I just let her go on grieving my death while I still lived, she'll never have tender feelings for me again. I know that for certain now."

"I think you underestimate her."

Jaime almost laughed. "Oh, I learned a long time ago never to underestimate Brienne of Tarth. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" he asked with a wry smile.

"There's something I want to show you," Tyrion said soberly. "I've been waiting for the right time, and I think this might be it." Tyrion folded up the parchment in his hands and put it back in the desk. He locked the drawer, pocketing the key so that no one would find the secret letter he'd written to the Queen in the North. Then, he hopped down from his chair and rounded the desk. "Come on," he said, cocking his head toward the door.

"Where are we going?" Jaime asked, refusing to rise until he knew.

"The White Sword Tower. There's something there that you need to see."

"I've already been to the White Sword Tower, and I have no desire to return anytime soon."

"Yes, I know. But this is important. I promise, it's not an ambush. I'm not going to drag you to Brienne's bedchamber and lock you both inside. I just want you to see something, that's all."

Jaime eyed Tyrion cautiously. He knew what Tyrion wanted. Tyrion wanted him to mend things with Brienne so that they could live happily ever after, but that wasn't going to happen. Jaime was tired of Tyrion's meddling, and he refused to stir from his chair until he was certain that his brother was done interfering in his life.

"Really, Jaime?" Tyrion chided. "What is it that you think I'm going to do? You're both three times taller than me. If you really wanted to, you could just pick me up and toss me out a window."

Jaime laughed. "You know, I think I might enjoy that."

"Well, I wouldn't," Tyrion replied. "Look, Jaime, you've already made your position very clear. If I meddle in your affairs, if I hurt Brienne again, you're going to do me bodily harm. I understand that perfectly well, and I promise, this is going to be the last time. I just want to show you one thing, and then I will stop plotting to push the two of you together, I swear."

"You? Stop plotting? Why don't you just swear never to drink again?"

"Gods forbid," Tyrion swore. "Now, get up and come with me. It's not going to take very long."

Jaime pushed himself up from his chair and followed after Tyrion. He had no desire to see what his brother wanted to show him, but he didn't want to spend the rest of the day arguing either. Whatever awaited him in the White Sword Tower wasn't going to make the least bit of difference. Jaime already knew where he stood with Brienne of Tarth, and nothing was ever going to change that.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Brienne approached the king's solar with sure, steady steps. Two knights of the Kingsguard stood outside the door, guarding their sovereign with the gravity that such an important task required. Brienne acknowledged them with a shallow dip of her head as she walked past. When she finally reached the door, she knocked and waited for a reply.

"Come in." Bran's voice was soft and calm as it carried to her from within.

Brienne opened the door and stepped inside, quietly closing it behind her and searching for her king. She found him sitting at the desk on the far side of the room, looking back at her with clear, vacant eyes. Even after six long months, Brienne still found Bran's cold stare unsettling. She knew he was a good man—after all, he was a Stark through and through—but the Three-Eyed Raven in him always unnerved her.

When Brienne failed to move, Bran said, "Come closer, please."

Brienne crossed the floor, stopping only when she reached the desk. Bran had never asked her for a private audience before. In the past, whenever they had spoken, it had always been in the presence of at least one other member of the small council, usually Tyrion. This was a new experience for Brienne, and she feared what her king might want of her.

Bran motioned toward the chair opposite him. "Sit down, Lady Brienne."

It wasn't often that anyone called her _Lady Brienne_ anymore. It was usually _Lord Commander_ or _Ser Brienne_. Podrick had a way of calling her _my lady_ that she found endearing, so she never corrected him. But King Bran was now addressing her as Brienne of Tarth, not Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and that was just one more thing to unsettle her.

Keeping her posture straight, Brienne lowered herself onto the edge of the chair and regarded her king.

"That's better," he said.

Brienne expected Bran to say something more, but he didn't. He just sat there, quietly staring back at her, his eyes piercing her soul.

Brienne's heart thumped against her ribs, and she fought to remain outwardly calm. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to speak or wait until she was spoken to. She counted the seconds with the beating of her own heart, waiting for something to happen. When nearly a full minute had passed without a word spoken between them, she finally broke the silence. "Ser Podrick said that you wanted to see me."

"Yes. I wish to talk to you about Jaime Lannister."

The muscles in Brienne's shoulders tightened, and her posture became even more rigid. "Yes, what about Ser Jaime?"

"Why did you reject his request to join the Kingsguard?"

Brienne stared at Bran for a long moment, struggling to keep her emotions from reflecting in her eyes. Bran's question alarmed her, not because there was anything untoward in it, but because she was certain he already knew the answer and she wasn't sure what kind of game he was playing.

Brienne knew she could offer Bran some innocuous excuse about not wanting a one-handed swordsman among her ranks, but he would know it was a lie, and Brienne didn't want to betray her king. So she answered as honestly as she could, her blood thrumming in her veins. "Jaime Lannister and I have a complicated history. Although I once had great faith in his sense of honor and duty, that changed after he left Winterfell for King's Landing. I have recently come to realize that Ser Jaime is not the man I thought he was, and I cannot accept a man I cannot trust into the Kingsguard."

"Do you love him?"

Brienne's breath caught in her throat, and her heart seemed to stop beating. She had never expected Bran to ask her such a thing. Never. Although Brienne still loved Jaime Lannister with all her broken heart, she had never confessed her love for him to anyone, not even to Jaime himself. She had kept that part of herself hidden away, afraid of being mocked for her feelings. She'd been a fool for love before. She didn't want to be a fool ever again.

Brienne knew that Bran expected her to answer him directly, but she couldn't. There were some things even her king couldn't command of her. "I'm afraid I can't answer that," Brienne replied. "My feelings for Ser Jaime are . . . complicated."

"You think he betrayed you." It was a statement, not a question.

"He did betray me. He betrayed us all."

"Do you think you can ever forgive him?"

Brienne quietly contemplated the question. In the long six months since Jaime had disappeared from her life, there had been moments when she'd thought that she had forgiven him, moments when her grief over his loss had been so strong that she'd been willing to forgive him anything. And then, she'd have a bad night, a particularly bad dream, or someone would say Cersei's name, and all the pain, all the anger would come rushing back. Now that Jaime had returned, now that she knew he was alive, the matter was even more unsettled. Brienne wasn't sure if she could ever forgive him for all the terrible things he had done. She feared she might spend the rest of her life hating him for tearing out her heart.

It was a long time before Brienne was finally able to answer Bran's question. All she could manage was, "I don't know."

"I've forgiven him. And if I have forgiven him, I think you can too."

Brienne was silent for a moment. The night Jaime had abandoned her at Winterfell, he had confessed to pushing Bran from the broken tower. She could still hear his words as clearly as if they'd just been spoken: _I pushed a boy out a tower window, crippled him for life, for Cersei_. In the months since Jaime had made that confession, Brienne had managed to brush it aside, telling herself that he had been a different man when he'd tried to murder a defenseless child. But the truth was, he had still been Jaime Lannister, and just because she loved him, didn't mean he wasn't still guilty of his sins. But if Bran could forgive him for stealing his legs, couldn't she forgive him for breaking her heart?

Brienne finally answered, "There may come a time when I am able to forgive him, but I will never be able to trust him again, of that I am sure."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Bran's lips, a rare sight indeed. "And why are you so sure?"

"Because trust is something that must be earned, and once it has been lost, it is nearly impossible to restore. I believed in Jaime Lannister once, and I paid a heavy price for it. I cannot imagine that there will ever come a time when I will be able to trust him again."

"And yet, if you are to remain Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you will have to see him every day."

Brienne's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she feared that Bran intended to relieve her of her position. After everything she had been through, Brienne had very little left in her life that she valued, and her position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was more precious to her than nearly anything. She had worked hard for it, and she didn't know what she would do if Bran decided to dismiss her from her post.

"_If _I am to remain Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?" Brienne asked, her fear seeping into her words.

Bran's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "You mistake me, Lord Commander. I did not mean to imply that you were in danger of losing your post. All I meant was that I know your position is important to you and that you want to fulfill your duty to the best of your ability. If you are to do so, then you will have to work closely with Jaime Lannister. Can you do that without allowing your feelings to interfere with your duty?"

"Of course," Brienne replied without a moment's hesitation.

"You say that now, but two days ago, you assaulted Ser Jaime. Are you certain you are capable of controlling your emotions in his presence?"

The blood rushed to Brienne's cheeks, and she suddenly felt ashamed. She had always prided herself on remaining calm and collected in even the most trying situations. It was rare that she ever lost her temper, and yet, the one time she did, the king himself had taken her to task for it. Brienne wished she were anywhere else in the world at that moment. It had been a long time since she'd felt quite so mortified.

"That was a momentary lapse," Brienne said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I was still in shock from discovering that Ser Jaime was alive, and I admit, I lost control. It will not happen again."

"Good, because it would not serve any of us well to have the smallfolk gossiping about the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard doing bodily harm to the new Master of War. We already have Lord Bronn and Ser Davos at each other's throats. We do not need more strife among the small council."

"Yes, I understand," Brienne replied, nodding her head in deference to her king.

"Although you may not be happy about his appointment," Bran said, "Jaime Lannister is exactly where he is meant to be. We are all exactly where we are meant to be. You must trust that is true."

Brienne eyed Bran curiously. Although he rarely revealed his secrets to the small council, he often spoke as if he knew the will of the gods themselves. Even though he was a Stark, sometimes it was hard for Brienne to trust him, sometimes his otherworldliness was simply too unnerving and it made her question everything he said and did.

Brienne refused to make any further comment about Jaime, so she said, "I know I am where I am meant to be, and I have no desire to leave."

"Good, because you are not meant to leave. Not yet."

"Not yet?" The words were out of Brienne's mouth before she could stop them.

"You may not be able to see it now, but there will come a time when you will desire to leave King's Landing for good. But it will not be a solemn occasion. It will be a choice you make for your own happiness."

Brienne shook her head. "No, no, I promise that will not happen. I want to be here. I want to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for all of my days. I swore an oath—"

"You swore an oath to serve the crown for as long as you hold your position. But you did not swear to remain here for life, and there is a reason for that."

Reluctantly, Brienne asked, "Because I'm meant to be somewhere else?"

Bran answered her with a faint smile, but he didn't say anything more on the subject. Instead, he changed the topic entirely. "You've had a raven from my sister this morning."

Brienne stared at him for a moment, startled by the abrupt turn in the conversation. Finally, she said, "Yes, I just sent off my reply before coming here."

"And what does she say? Anything I need to know?"

Brienne wondered just how much Bran knew about his sister's feelings for Tyrion Lannister. Although Tyrion's infatuation with the northern queen was widely discussed and often mocked, Brienne didn't think anyone knew about Sansa's affection for him. Of course, Bran seemed to know all, but did he really know the secrets of his sister's heart?

Brienne decided to answer as diplomatically as she could. "The northern lords have compiled a list of potential husbands for the queen. And while she has no desire to marry, she has agreed to take the matter under consideration, since it is the will of her bannermen."

"Have you shown the list to Lord Tyrion yet?"

Brienne was stunned silent. Suddenly, she couldn't help but wonder whether Bran had read Sansa's letter over her shoulder as she'd been writing it or if he had read it through the parchment when it had arrived in the rookery that morning. It was clear that he knew everything the letter contained, and Brienne feared he was testing her.

When Brienne finally found her voice again, she replied in a calm, even tone, "I have not."

"And do you plan to?"

"Tyrion is a wise man, and he knows a great deal about all the lords of Westeros. His opinion on the matter is highly valuable."

"Don't you think it will spark a hint of jealousy?"

"Despite his passion for drink and meddling in other people's affairs, Lord Tyrion is a pragmatic man. He will do his duty, as he always does, and give Queen Sansa an honest assessment of each of the candidates."

"Without knowing that she has made the request?"

"Yes, exactly."

Bran looked away, staring down at a piece of parchment on his desk, finally giving Brienne a chance to breathe.

"My sister is lonely," he said, picking up the parchment, his eyes scanning down its length. "She writes to me nearly every day. There should always be a Stark in Winterfell, but a Stark without a pack is a sad thing indeed." He lowered the letter and raised his eyes to Brienne. "My sister needs a pack, and the only way she is going to get one is by finding a husband and having children of her own."

Brienne's nerves hummed beneath her skin as she struggled to keep herself from asking Bran a question she knew she had no right to ask. But her curiosity was too great, and despite her good sense, she lost the battle with herself. "And do you know who Sansa should marry?"

"She should marry a man who is worthy of her. A lord, of course. Someone she can care for. Someone she can love."

Brienne's heart raced faster. "Yes, but do you know who that man is?"

Bran's smile widened ever so slightly. "Thank you for joining me, Brienne. You may go now."


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Jaime and Tyrion reached the White Sword Tower without any sign of Brienne. Even so, Jaime's muscles tensed and his heart beat an uneven rhythm as they entered the common room without her knowledge or consent. Jaime had no desire to upset Brienne again. She had been through more than enough, and the last thing she needed was to find him and Tyrion skulking around the White Sword Tower.

Tyrion barreled straight into the room, heading for the large table at its center, but Jaime held back, standing just inside the doorway.

Tyrion rounded the table and stopped on the opposite side, lifting his head to look up at his brother. "Well, aren't you coming?"

"I don't like this," Jaime answered. "We have no right to be here. This is the dominion of the Kingsguard."

"We have every right to be here," Tyrion replied as he climbed up into the chair beside him. "After all, I am Hand of the King. I can go wherever I please in the Red Keep."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should."

Tyrion eyed Jaime pointedly. "Trust me, I do know the difference, but there's something very important you need to see. If the Lord Commander does find us here, I shall gladly take all the blame."

"Even if you take the blame, I'm the one who's likely to be punished. Brienne is too honorable to ever harm the Hand of her king. But me? I wouldn't be surprised if she punched me again."

The hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Tyrion's mouth. "Yes, well, that is a distinct possibility, isn't it?"

"Tyrion, I don't want to—"

"Hurt her, yes, I know. That's not why we're here. Now, stop arguing and close the door."

Jaime looked over his shoulder, peering down the corridor to make sure that they were alone. He dreaded the idea of hurting Brienne again, of invading her domain without her express permission, but it seemed he didn't have much choice. Tyrion had promised to stop interfering in their lives if Jaime just allowed him this one last transgression. And the sooner Jaime stepped into the room, the sooner they could get on with it.

With great reluctance, Jaime finally closed the door and walked to the table. He stopped on the side opposite Tyrion, regarding his brother with open suspicion. "All right," he said, "what is it you want me to see?"

"Bring me _The Book of Brothers_," Tyrion commanded as if he were the king and Jaime were his Hand.

Jaime raised a brow in question but didn't say a word. He looked around the room, spotting the large volume on a stand against the far wall. Despite its weight and unwieldy size, he quickly retrieved it, placing it on the table in front of Tyrion.

It had been a long time since Jaime had seen _The Book of Brothers_, a long time since he'd even thought about it. The last time he had seen it had been the day he'd stood in that very room with Joffrey, being mocked for the lack of heroic deeds in his own entry. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago. At the time, Joffrey's words had stung, but Jaime had since realized that he didn't deserve a single line more. All he'd ever done was disappoint those he loved, and he didn't feel particularly heroic.

Tyrion began to flip the pages, and Jaime watched idly as the inky black letters flashed before his eyes. The book looked perfectly intact despite the fact that half the castle had burned down around it.

"I'm surprised it survived the fire," Jaime said absently. "I suppose the gods do have a sense of humor."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Tyrion asked as he continued turning the pages.

A bitter laugh escaped Jaime's throat as he looked up at Tyrion again. "Just that, if the book had been destroyed, my page would have been destroyed with it and my name would have faded into obscurity. Instead, the gods chose to spare it, forever securing my place in history as the Kingslayer."

Tyrion smiled to himself, and Jaime wanted to ask him what he found so amusing, but he didn't get the chance.

Tyrion turned one last page and said, "Ah, here it is."

Jaime's eyes drifted downward, settling on the open book. For a moment, he didn't know what he was seeing. He saw the Lannister lion on a field of red in the far-left corner. He saw his name beside it, _Ser Jaime Lannister_. But the rest of the page looked foreign to him. When last he'd seen the book, his page had barely been half full. It had contained a few short, uninspired lines detailing his history as a knight:

_Squired for Barristan Selmy against the Kingswood Outlaws. _

_Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his sixteenth year for valor in the field. _

_At the Sack of King's Landing, murdered his king, Aerys the second, at the foot of the Iron Throne. _

_Pardoned by King Robert Baratheon. Thereafter known as the Kingslayer._

And that was all.

But now, the page was full, and Jaime could see, without even reading it, that the text continued onto the reverse side of the parchment. He stared in wonderment at the page, trying to read the words but struggling to make sense of them.

"Would you like me to read you what it says?" Tyrion asked.

"What?" Jaime looked up in surprise, having completely forgotten that Tyrion was in the room.

"Do you want me to read it to you? It's quite inspiring, if you ask me. Makes me proud to call you my brother."

Jaime looked down at the book again, his eyes finally focusing on the letters. He didn't recognize the hand. He knew that only the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was supposed to write in _The Book of Brothers_, which meant it was very likely that Brienne had been the one to complete his entry.

Jaime reached out, his fingers trailing over the page, across the light, even letters. "Who wrote this?" he asked, his heart beating faster.

"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, of course," Tyrion replied. "And I think she did quite an admirable job. Well, except for the part where she names me as Joffrey's murderer, but since that was the official finding of the court, I suppose I can forgive her for that."

Jaime focused intently on the page, reading the words but barely comprehending their meaning. Although he had struggled to read as a child, getting the letters reversed in his head, that wasn't the problem now. He wasn't having difficulty reading because he couldn't make sense of the letters, but because he couldn't believe that Brienne had done him such a kindness.

"Here," Tyrion said, turning the book around so that it was now facing Jaime. "This should make it easier."

The blood thrummed in Jaime's veins as he began to read, devouring word after word. Brienne of Tarth had recorded his deeds in _The Book of Brothers_ as if he'd been some noble knight, worthy of great praise. There was admiration in her words—admiration and respect—both of which Jaime knew he didn't deserve.

_Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life._

_Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy._

_Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. _

_Fought at the Battle of the Goldroad bravely, narrowly escaping death by dragonfire._

Jaime could scarcely believe his eyes. Brienne had had every right to leave his page unfinished, or better still, to brand him a traitor. But she hadn't. Instead, she'd written about him as if he were the bravest, most noble knight to ever serve the Seven Kingdoms.

Jaime's heart pounded against his ribs as he read on, wondering how Brienne had marked the rest of his life.

_Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell, alone. _

_Faced the Army of the Dead and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King. _

_Escaped imprisonment and rode south in an attempt to save the capital from destruction._

Tears pricked the backs of Jaime's eyes, and he struggled to keep them from falling. He didn't deserve a word of it, not a word. Brienne was a far better person than he would ever be, and he knew it. Although his reasons for leaving her had been nothing but altruistic, that didn't change the fact that he had hurt her deeply and that he didn't deserve her praise or admiration.

Jaime's eyes moved lower on the page. There was only one line left.

_Died protecting his Queen._

Jaime froze, every muscle in his body suddenly going numb. He stared at the words, reading them over and over again.

_Died protecting his Queen. _

_Died protecting his Queen. _

He nearly had died protecting Cersei. It hadn't been his intention, of course. When he'd left Winterfell for King's Landing, he had meant to end Cersei's life. But as the rubble had begun to fall all around them, he'd been unable to stop himself from trying to protect her and their unborn child. Even then, he'd known it was a futile effort, but he'd done it anyway because he hadn't wanted his sister to die alone. Brienne had been far too generous in her recording of his life—and his death—and Jaime had never felt more ashamed.

When Jaime was finally able to move, he turned his head away from the book and stepped back from the table. For a moment, he couldn't even speak. He just stood there, staring at the floor, not saying a word.

It was Tyrion who finally broke the silence. "It's quite extraordinary, isn't it? I don't think I could have done a better job of it myself."

Jaime raised his eyes to Tyrion. "Why . . . why show me this?"

"Because you needed to know what Brienne thinks of you, how she feels about you, despite what happened six months ago."

Jaime shook his head, unwilling to accept Tyrion's reassurances. "_That_," he said, nodding toward the book, "has nothing to do with how she feels about me. Brienne of Tarth is the most honorable person I have ever known. She wrote those words because she is an honorable woman, because—"

"Because she still loves you."

Jaime's heart skipped a beat, and he stared at Tyrion without seeing him. Brienne had never confessed her love, not even when they had been deep in the throes of passion. But then, she'd never had to. Jaime had always felt it, even when they had been at odds. He'd always felt it because it had always been there, just like his love for her. But now, he couldn't bring himself to believe that she felt anything for him. Perhaps she had felt a certain kindness toward him when she'd thought he was dead, but that had surely changed since he'd returned to King's Landing and revealed that he was still very much alive.

"She doesn't love me," Jaime said, the words hollow in his throat. "Maybe . . . maybe she did once, but not anymore."

"How can you say that?" Tyrion argued. "You read what she wrote. She had no reason to portray you as a hero, and every reason to portray you as a villain. Brienne of Tarth could have allowed history to believe that you were nothing more than a worthless wretch, Cersei's lapdog till the very end, but she didn't because she loves you, and for no other reason."

"I am a worthless wretch."

Tyrion shook his head. "Why are you so determined to believe that? Why do you refuse to even consider the idea that you might still have a chance at happiness with Brienne?"

"Because I don't. Because I didn't kill Cersei when I had the chance. Because I left Brienne and didn't return to her as soon as the danger had passed."

"And why didn't you kill Cersei? Hmm? Tell me that."

"Because I thought we were going to die anyway, and I still loved her—like a sister—and I couldn't be the one to end her life or our child's life. Had circumstances been different—"

"You would have done what needed to be done."

"Yes, but—"

"And why didn't you return to Brienne when you had the chance?" Tyrion asked.

"Because I didn't want to hurt her any more than I already had."

"Then you need to tell her that."

"I have told her that. She doesn't care, and I can't say that I blame her."

"Have you told her all of it? Every last detail, every last reason why you did what you did?"

Jaime sighed heavily. "She won't listen, and frankly, I think it would be an insult to her honor to start throwing excuses at her now."

Tyrion laughed, the sound almost mocking. "You really don't have all that much experience with women, do you?"

Jaime's eyes narrowed on his brother. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You can't keep treating Brienne like a fellow soldier. You have to treat her like a woman."

"I'm not treating her like a soldier."

"Yes, you are. You're worried about offending her honor, about wasting her time and getting in her way, when what you should really be worried about is making amends and wooing her back."

"I have no intention of wooing anyone," Jaime replied, his eyes falling to the book again. He was too far away now to read the words, but it didn't matter. Every last word Brienne had written was forever etched into his brain: _Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life. Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. Died protecting his Queen. _

Jaime sounded so terribly brave on parchment, but at best, it was all an exaggeration, and at worst, a lie.

"I think it would be best if I stayed away from Brienne as much as possible," Jaime said. "You've already put her in an unenviable position, appointing me Master of War. I don't want to make things any worse for her."

Tyrion leaned forward and closed the book, instantly breaking Jaime's focus. Jaime looked up at Tyrion again, not at all surprised to find his brother watching him intently.

"Why do you think Brienne wrote what she wrote?" Tyrion asked.

"Because she is everything good and honorable and true."

"Then why are you calling her a liar?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"If you honestly believe that Brienne is good and honorable and true, then how can you also accuse her of writing lies about you in this book?" Tyrion patted the cover for good measure.

"I didn't say they were lies. I just think they're half-truths."

"Oh, is that what you're calling them now?" Tyrion asked as he sat back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. "She tells half-truths, so she must only be half a liar."

The blood stirred in Jaime's veins, and he knew he was in serious danger of losing his temper. He couldn't allow Tyrion to slight Brienne's honor, not even in jest. "She's not a liar," Jaime said, his voice tight. "Not at all."

"Then, if that is indeed the case, it means that every word she wrote about you in _The Book of Brother_s is true. And that means, at the very least, that she thinks you are an honorable man. And if Brienne of Tarth thinks you are an honorable man, then it must be true."

Jaime shook his head, his eyes never leaving Tyrion's. "No, it means that, when she thought I was dead, she was able to look upon my memory with mercy and kindness, but now that she knows I am alive, all that has changed. She may have believed those words when she transcribed them in that book, but she does not believe them now. Now, she doesn't see any honor in me, and all she wants is me gone from her life."

"If you believe that, then you're an even bigger fool than I thought."

"I'm no fool. I know what Brienne wants. She's already told me, and nothing in that book changes anything."

Tyrion sighed heavily, pulling his eyes away from Jaime's. Jaime knew Tyrion was frustrated with him. Tyrion had expected him to go running to Brienne the instant he had seen what she'd written in _The Book of Brothers_, but that wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen, for far too many reasons.

"Remember," Jaime said, drawing Tyrion's attention back to him, "you gave me your word that you were done meddling. I don't want to hear another word on the matter, not another word."

"But—"

"No, that's an end to it. From now on, you stop meddling and let me and Brienne live our lives. Separately. Do you understand?"

"Oh, I understand," Tyrion said, "I stop interfering or risk bodily harm."

"You stop interfering, or I tell the Queen in the North exactly how you feel about her."

The color drained from Tyrion's face, and Jaime felt a hint of satisfaction. He quickly turned and left the room, knowing better than to ever let his brother have the last word.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

After Brienne left Bran's chamber, she did her best to go about her day as if nothing was troubling her, even though she was still haunted by his words: _You swore an oath to serve the crown for as long as you hold your position. But you did not swear to remain here for life, and there is a reason for that._

Brienne had learned long ago that Bran never said anything without a reason. When she'd taken her oath as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, she'd had every intention of serving her king until the day she died, despite the fact that such devotion was no longer a requirement of the position. And yet, Bran had as good as told her that she wouldn't hold the title for long, and Brienne found the idea quite unsettling. There was no place in the world she would rather be than there in King's Landing, serving as his sworn sword. Even though Brienne missed her father and her home, her life was in the capital now, and she didn't want to give it up for anything.

By the time the sun began to set, Brienne was in the training yard sparring with one of the knights of the Kingsguard. Fighting never failed to clear her head, and she always felt confident with a sword in her hand. It was when swords weren't called for, around dinner tables and in solars, that her confidence waned. If Brienne could spend the next month just sparring in the yard with Oathkeeper firmly gripped in her hand, she was sure she could be quite content.

A few minutes before the last of the light faded, Podrick entered the yard, and Brienne called an end to the match.

"Good work," she said to her opponent. "You may take the rest of the evening off. The king is already well protected."

"Thank you, Lord Commander," the knight replied before bowing his head and taking his leave.

Once he was gone, Brienne turned her attention to Podrick. "What is it? Another command from the king?"

"No, my lady. Lord Tyrion has invited all the members of the small council to his solar for dinner this evening. It seems he arranged it as a sort of welcome home for Ser Jaime."

Brienne's whole body tensed. She sheathed Oathkeeper, keeping her hand on its hilt to give herself strength. "Please tell Lord Tyrion that I appreciate the invitation but that I have other plans for the evening."

The hint of a smile pulled at Podrick's lips. "He said you'd say that."

Brienne resisted the urge to laugh. "Well, he does always like to be right, doesn't he? I'm sure he'll be pleased when you deliver my answer."

Podrick's eyes darted to the ground for a moment before moving back to Brienne. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but Lord Tyrion said not to take no for an answer. He said if you refused—_when_ you refused—I was to send Ser Jaime out to fetch you, which I'm sure is the last thing you want."

Brienne's grip tightened on Oathkeeper. She wished Tyrion Lannister were standing in front of her at that very moment. She would have turned him from a half-man into a quarter-man.

"In that case," Brienne replied, "tell Lord Tyrion that I would be more than happy to join him for dinner."

But instead of running off to deliver the message, Podrick just stood there and said, "I'm sorry, my lady."

"I know you are, Pod. But we all must do our duty."

Brienne took her leave of her former squire and returned to her chamber to change. Thankfully, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, no one ever expected her to wear a gown for the evening meal. Despite the title of her birth, she was no lady, and she didn't even own a single dress.

As soon as Brienne reached her room, she washed the sweat from her body at the small washbasin in the corner, then donned a fresh tunic and breeches before heading to Tyrion's solar.

By the time Brienne arrived, the rest of the small council was already present, as was Bran. It wasn't often that the king dined with the other residents of the Red Keep. Mostly, he kept to himself, only leaving his quarters when he felt it was absolutely necessary. Had she not known him so well, Brienne would have thought Bran nothing more than a recluse, but she knew he traveled farther each day in his own mind than she had traveled in her entire life.

Brienne quietly entered the room, bowing her head in Bran's direction before slipping into the only empty chair at the table, the one directly across from Jaime. Brienne didn't even glance in his direction. Instead, she focused her attention on the other end of the table, where the king sat like a broken god quietly observing them all. Tyrion sat to her left, at the foot of the table, between her and Jaime, and the whole situation felt very much like an ambush, but Brienne knew she was not at liberty to retreat.

"Now that we are all here," Bran said, "I would like to officially welcome Jaime Lannister to the small council and to announce that, henceforth, he shall no longer be known as_ Ser_ Jaime but as_ Lord_ Jaime, since he is the rightful heir to Casterly Rock and I have chosen to restore his birthright."

Every eye at the table turned to Jaime, including Brienne's. She silently watched him, her heart in her throat, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were on Bran.

It took Jaime a moment to reply, and when he did, his words were far from eloquent. "Thank . . . thank you, Your Grace. I . . . I never expected—"

"Of course you didn't. And why should you have, after everything you've done? But not all your past deeds were wicked. In fact, according to _The Book of Brothers_, you are quite the hero."

Brienne's heart beat a little faster, and she didn't dare glance in Bran's direction. Bran knew she had been the one to record Jaime's deeds in the book, and she felt far too self-conscious to face him.

Bran went on, "So as long as you continue to act heroically, you shall remain Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands."

Jaime stared at Bran in stunned silence. Brienne knew how important Casterly Rock was to Jaime, and she couldn't even begin to imagine the myriad emotions battling within him. Finally, he opened his mouth as if to protest, but Tyrion cut him off.

"Here, here," Tyrion said, raising his glass in the air.

All around the table, everyone scrambled for their own goblets—except Bran, who stayed as detached as ever. They lifted their glasses high, Brienne included, as Tyrion extolled, "To the new Lord of Casterly Rock. There is no man more deserving of the title."

"Here, here," Sam said tentatively, followed by a few uncertain cries of assent from around the table. Everyone drank but Bran and Jaime, who were still staring at each other in tense silence.

Jaime finally dragged his eyes away from Bran, turning his head toward Tyrion, but his eyes never reached his brother. Instead, they stopped at Brienne, just as she was lowering her glass. She could see the doubt in Jaime's eyes, the doubt and the self-loathing. He didn't feel he was worthy of the honor Bran had bestowed upon him, and he could muster little enthusiasm for it.

It was difficult for Brienne not to react. Her first instinct was to offer Jaime a kind smile, to reassure him that he was worthy, that he would make an admirable Lord of Casterly Rock. But she fought to keep her sympathies in check. Jaime was a grown man; he didn't need her reassurances. And despite Bran's obvious ability to forgive and forget, Brienne wasn't quite sure she could ever be so magnanimous.

Jaime's eyes lingered on Brienne a moment longer before he finally turned his attention to Tyrion. "I'm not entirely sure that's true, brother. I can think of at least one man more deserving of the title."

Tyrion chuckled, dismissing Jaime's concerns with a wave of his hand. "I hope you don't mean me. You are our father's eldest surviving heir. Casterly Rock is yours by rights. Besides, my life is here in King's Landing. King Bran has vowed to keep me at my post for the rest of my days. I could never do the position justice from so far away."

"But you've made me Master of War—" Jaime began to argue.

"So I have. And Master of War you shall stay. For now."

Tyrion turned away from Jaime and reached across the table to refill his glass, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Jaime spared a quick glance at Brienne before turning his attention to his plate. He was silent for the remainder of the meal, though the rest of the party chatted amiably around him.

The meal was a relatively somber affair, but then, it was difficult for anyone to be in high spirits when Bran was near. He had a dampening effect on everything, and even Lord Bronn kept his colorful remarks to a minimum. Bran had granted Bronn both his title and his lands, and it was apparent that even the new Lord of Highgarden knew better than to bite the hand that fed him.

Dinner ended without any preamble. When Bran was finished with his meal, he turned to address Lord Bronn and Ser Davos. "I know the hour is late, but I would like you both to join me in my chambers. I would like to discuss financing for the royal fleet."

Brienne could tell from the look in Bronn's eyes that he wanted to protest. He obviously had much more exciting plans for the evening than discussing small council business with his king, but he stayed silent on the matter, allowing Ser Davos to answer for them both.

"Of course, Your Grace," Davos replied. "We'd like nothing more."

Bran turned his head in Sam's direction. "Grand Maester Tarly, would you please wheel me to my solar?"

"Of . . . of course, Your Grace."

Sam stood, and the rest of the table followed.

As Sam moved behind Bran's wheeled chair, Tyrion said, "Perhaps I should come with you. This matter of the royal fleet has been a thorn in my side for months now, and I'm sure I could offer some valuable insights."

Bran held up a hand, holding Tyrion back. "Lord Bronn and Ser Davos are all I require at this time. You should stay here and finish your meal."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Brienne struggled not to laugh. It wasn't often that anyone put Tyrion Lannister in his place, and there was something undeniably satisfying about it.

Without another word, Sam wheeled Bran from the table, and Bronn and Davos followed them both out into the corridor, leaving Brienne alone with Jaime and Tyrion. Brienne wanted to make her own excuses and disappear from the room, but she knew she didn't have that option. Bran had left her alone with the Lannister brothers for a reason, just as he did everything for a reason, and she had no choice but to sit there a little while longer and bide her time. Bran would know if she prematurely deserted her post. Bran knew everything.

Tyrion cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, that was pleasant, wasn't it? Since there's still food and wine, perhaps we should all sit and finish our meal."

Jaime and Brienne lowered themselves into their chairs while Tyrion climbed up into his. They went back to eating in silence, the air oppressive around them. Brienne wondered why Tyrion wasn't already harassing her and Jaime about their relationship. She knew he wanted to say something, but she had no idea what was holding him back. It was a great feat indeed to get Tyrion Lannister to hold his tongue, and Brienne was thankful to whoever it was who had convinced him to keep his mouth shut for a change.

And yet, the silence was painfully awkward, and after a good five minutes, Brienne could no longer bear it. There was something she needed to discuss with Tyrion, and the casual setting gave her the perfect opportunity. Of course, Jaime would overhear every word, but Brienne knew he could keep a secret. And if he didn't, he'd have to answer for his transgression at the end of her sword.

Brienne turned her attention to Tyrion, purposefully avoiding Jaime's eyes. "My lord, may I ask you for some advice on a matter of a personal nature?"

Brienne heard Jaime choke, and she fought back a smile. Did he honestly think she was going to ask Tyrion for advice about their relationship? She didn't need advice about their relationship. She had already made up her mind about it the day before. It was over between them, and they would never be together again.

Tyrion must have had the same thought as his brother because his eyes darted to Jaime before quickly settling on Brienne. "Of course, Brienne. You may ask me anything."

"It concerns Queen Sansa."

Jaime exhaled an audible sigh, and Brienne bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing.

"Queen Sansa?" Tyrion asked, his cheeks darkening at the mention of his former wife's name.

"Yes. I had a letter from her this morning. It seems the northern lords have decided that she should take a husband sooner rather than later, in order to secure succession to the throne. And while the queen is not at all eager to marry again, she is obliged to at least consider their request."

Tyrion fidgeted in his seat, his fingers curling around his glass, but he made no move to drink. "And how can I help in the matter? Is Queen Sansa having second thoughts about ending our marriage?" he asked, laughing nervously.

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that," Brienne reassured him, knowing he was hoping that was precisely what it was. "It's just that her bannermen have given her a list of potential suitors and she has asked me to send back an opinion on each one. And while I am familiar with some of the candidates, I am in no way familiar with them all. I thought, perhaps, you could look into the matter yourself and let me know what you think before I send my reply."

Brienne could feel Jaime watching her from across the table. She wondered if he knew what she was doing, knew that she was on a secret mission from the queen. Brienne's own cheeks heated under his stare, but she refused to look in his direction. She just continued to eat her meal as she kept her attention focused on Tyrion.

"Do you remember the names on the list?" Tyrion asked.

"I'm not terribly good at remembering names," Brienne replied, "so I've kept the list with me all day so that I could go over it whenever I had a spare moment."

Brienne reached into her pocket and pulled out the list Sansa had included with her letter. She held it out toward Tyrion, but when he reached for it, she quickly pulled it back.

Tyrion's brow furrowed in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just . . . this is a very delicate matter. A private matter, and—"

"And I will keep this just between the three of us. You have my word."

Brienne gave Tyrion a grateful nod. "Thank you, my lord."

She offered him the list again, and this time, she let him take it. Tyrion immediately leaned back in his chair and began to read, and Brienne finally hazarded a glance at Jaime.

He raised a single brow, giving her a curious look, but Brienne kept her face emotionless, refusing to betray even a hint of what she was thinking.

"No, no," Tyrion grumbled, "this will never do."

Both Brienne and Jaime turned to look at Tyrion again.

"What's wrong?" Brienne asked.

"Robin Arryn? She can't marry Robin Arryn."

"And why not? He's Lord of the Eyrie. He's grown into a perfectly fine young man."

Tyrion shook his head, his eyes still on the parchment. "That may be so, but he's far too weak-willed for Sansa. She'd trample the poor lad within a week of marriage. She needs a man by her side, not a boy. She needs someone who's as strong as she is, but who will not be domineering. Someone who will let her lead in all things."

Brienne was certain she knew exactly who Tyrion had in mind, but she held her tongue.

"And then," Tyrion said in horror, "the northern lords suggest Gendry Baratheon?"

"And what do you find offensive about him, my lord? The fact that he was a bastard or a blacksmith?"

Tyrion lowered the list and looked at Brienne. "The fact that he's still in love with Arya Stark. Sansa deserves a man who will love her and her alone, not someone who's pining for her sister. No, no, Gendry won't do at all."

"Then who do you suggest?" Brienne asked, fighting to keep the amusement from her tone.

"I don't know yet. I'll have to think about it. There are half a dozen names on this list, and all are men who are lacking for one reason or another." Tyrion leaned forward and finally lifted his glass. He downed every last drop of wine before sighing heavily and putting the glass back down on the table. When his gaze met Brienne's again, he asked, "How soon does the queen want an answer?"

"As soon as possible, I'd imagine. I'm sure her bannermen have been quite insistent."

"In that case, I think it's time for me to bid you both good night. I have a great deal of work to do." Tyrion slipped from his chair, the list still in his hand. He stopped beside the table for a moment to look up at Brienne. "Do you mind if I keep this?"

"No, of course not, as long as you return it."

"You'll have it back as soon as I have an answer."

And then, without another word, Tyrion hurried from the room, leaving Brienne and Jaime alone once again.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Jaime stared at Brienne as she watched Tyrion leave the room. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since she'd started talking. She'd played Tyrion, Jaime was certain of it, but he wasn't quite sure why. As far as he knew, Tyrion and Sansa were on good terms, so what possible reason could Brienne have had for subterfuge? Was she trying to play matchmaker to Tyrion and Sansa the way Tyrion was trying to play matchmaker to them? Jaime knew Brienne well enough to know that such petty games were beneath her. No, if she had misled Tyrion in any way, it was because Queen Sansa had put her up to it and for no other reason.

Once Tyrion was gone, Brienne turned back toward the table and her eyes instantly locked with Jaime's. Her cheeks flushed a shade darker, but in no other way did she betray her emotions. She quickly broke his gaze and concentrated on her plate, finishing what was left of her meal.

Jaime picked up his fork and idly toyed with the remnants of his dinner. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Ask for Tyrion's help as if the queen herself hadn't put you up to it?"

The hint of a smile curved Brienne's lips, and Jaime's heart thudded against his ribs. He'd truly thought never to see her smile again.

"Although I am loyal to King Bran," Brienne answered, "the queen is a dear friend, and if she asks for my help, I am always happy to give it."

"So she asked you to question Tyrion without letting him know of her involvement?"

Brienne's smile grew infinitesimally wider. "I'm afraid I can't answer that, since I'd never betray the confidence of a friend."

Jaime laughed. "I suppose that means you're not going to tell me what the queen is up to, even if I ask nicely?"

Brienne stared up at him with innocent eyes, and Jaime's breath caught in his throat. For the first time since he'd returned, he was overcome by the urge to kiss her. There was something so sweet about the way she was looking at him. He knew it was mock innocence, of course, but he found it charming just the same.

"And who says the queen is up to something?" Brienne asked.

Jaime reached for his goblet, cradling it in the palm of his hand as he pondered how to respond. "There are only two things Sansa Stark could be up to. Either she wants Tyrion's opinion but is afraid to ask him outright because of their history, or she's in love with him and is hoping that this little errand you've sent him on will force his hand."

Brienne fought back another smile, and Jaime was startled to realize that he'd somehow stumbled upon the truth.

"Seven hells," he whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Sansa Stark is in love with my brother?"

"I didn't say that," Brienne replied as she lifted her own glass and took a sip.

Jaime finally raised his goblet and downed half its contents. He understood Tyrion's feelings for Sansa, but he was slightly baffled by Sansa's feelings for Tyrion. It wasn't that he thought his brother was a bad prospect, but he was amazed by the idea that Sansa Stark, of all people, had been able to look beyond Tyrion's shortcomings and see him as a man worthy of her love.

When Jaime lowered his glass again, he found that Brienne had gone back to picking at her dinner as if she hadn't just revealed a monumental secret.

"You . . . you can't be serious," Jaime said, drawing Brienne's eyes back to him.

"I didn't say anything. You drew your own conclusions, remember?"

"Brienne, please. We need to talk about this."

Brienne put down her fork and squared her shoulders, giving Jaime her full attention. "And why do we need to talk about this?"

"Because regardless of what happened between us, you love Sansa as much as I love Tyrion, and if we can do anything to help them find happiness together, then we most definitely should."

"Fine," Brienne replied. "Sansa is in love with Tyrion, but if you tell another living soul, you will answer for it at the point of my sword. Do you understand?"

Jaime understood perfectly, though he wasn't the least bit afraid that Brienne would make good on her threat. He would never betray her again. Not for duty, not for honor, not for anything. "I understand. I won't say a word."

Brienne exhaled a tremulous sigh, and her shoulders sank just a little. She seemed relieved to have finally shared her secret with someone, and Jaime felt a small sense of pride that he'd been the one she'd chosen to share it with.

"It's quite lonely up north," Brienne said, "particularly for Sansa. Bran is here in King's Landing, Jon is north of the Wall, Arya is gods-only-know where. Sansa has no one close to her anymore. When I was granted the position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, I offered to turn it down, to stay at Winterfell with her, but she encouraged me to go. And now, she has no one."

"But what does that have to do with her feelings for Tyrion?" Jaime asked, resting his forearms on the table and leaning in closer. He was surprised by how natural this all felt. Despite the pain, the anger, the months that stood between them, it felt like no time had passed at all. "Just because she's lonely doesn't necessarily mean that she's in love with my brother."

"I don't know all the details," Brienne said, "but something happened between them in the crypts the night the White Walkers attacked Winterfell. And ever since that night, Sansa has looked at Tyrion with new eyes. She admires him. She respects him. And yes, she even loves him, though she's never confessed it to me. I know love when I see it. And I know that Sansa loves Tyrion just as much as Tyrion loves Sansa."

Jaime gazed into Brienne's eyes, wishing she could see the love he still felt for her. He remembered what she'd written in _The Book of Brothers_, every last word of it, and he wondered if, knowing what she knew now, she would still have written those same words. Brienne had cared for him once, loved him once, but he didn't think she could ever love him again. Not that it mattered, really. She was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and was sworn to a lifetime of servitude and celibacy. Even if they somehow resolved all the difficulties between them, they could never be anything more than friends.

"Is there something you wish to say, _Lord_ Jaime?" Brienne asked, refusing to falter under his stare.

Jaime racked his brain, trying to figure out how to reply. He wanted to confess his undying love, but he knew such a confession would be unwelcome, so he desperately searched for something else to say. He had tried to explain himself to Brienne before, and he had failed miserably. Now that they were finally alone together again, he had to try one more time. "I need to tell you why I left."

Brienne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and her eyes flickered from his for just a moment. When she met his gaze again, she said, "I don't want to hear it."

"Well, you have to. You have to know why I did what I did, why I left. You don't have to like it. You don't have to forgive me. In fact, I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm just asking you to listen, that's all."

"And why should I listen to you? I don't owe you anything."

"No, you're right, you don't. But for the man I once was, for the man you once cared for, please, at least listen to what I have to say."

Brienne was quiet for a moment, and Jaime's heart lodged in his throat. He knew she had every right to refuse him, knew she was free to get up and leave without listening to a single word he had to say, but he hoped she wouldn't.

Finally, Brienne said, "I will listen, but you must be completely honest with me. Don't lie to spare my feelings or because you think it's the noble thing to do. If you're going to talk, I want the truth, Jaime Lannister. All of it."

Jaime slowly nodded, shoring himself up. "All right, the truth. The truth is . . ." He paused, struggling to find the right words. He had no problem being honest with Brienne, but he wasn't quite sure where to start.

"Is it really that hard for you to tell the truth?"

Jaime chose to ignore the less than charitable remark. "The truth is that I went to King's Landing to kill Cersei, to put an end to her. I knew I was the only one who could get close enough to do it."

Brienne stared at him in cold silence, and he couldn't tell if she thought he was lying or telling the truth. It was a long time before she finally spoke. "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

"It's the truth."

"Is it?" Brienne arched a brow in challenge. "And did you kill Cersei? Did you save Westeros from her evil reign?"

"No," Jaime said in a small voice. "I didn't."

Brienne snickered. "Then what did you do?"

Jaime inhaled a steadying breath, trying to calm his nerves. It was a long, difficult story, and he'd barely just begun. He feared he wouldn't get very much further before Brienne stormed from the room.

"By the time I reached King's Landing, the gates to the Red Keep were already closing, and I had to find another way in. I went down to the shore, to make my way in through the tunnels beneath the keep, and there, I was set upon by Euron Greyjoy."

Brienne's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, and although she didn't speak, Jaime could see that she was troubled by the other man's name.

"We fought," Jaime said, "and before I was able to kill him, he stabbed me in my side." Jaime reached beneath the table, placing his hand against his left flank, where the wound still bore witness to the event. It was an unconscious gesture, one he often made whenever thinking about that fateful day. "The wound was deep, and I honestly thought I was going to die. Once I was sure Greyjoy was no longer a threat, I continued on, making it to the Red Keep and finding Cersei."

Brienne drew in a long, slow breath, and Jaime could feel the tension rising around them. It was just as hard for Brienne to hear Cersei's name as it was for Jaime to say it. He didn't want to tell Brienne this story, but he knew he had no choice. All he had to do was tell it once, and he'd never have to tell it again.

Jaime went on, "By the time I reached her, the Red Keep was already beginning to crumble around us. Cersei was terrified, more frightened than I'd ever seen her before. At that point, I knew there was no hope of either one of us escaping, and suddenly, knowing that she was going to die anyway, I didn't have the heart to end her life."

"Because you still loved her."

The hardness in Brienne's tone made Jaime's heart beat faster, and he stumbled over his reply. "Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, I still loved her. She was my sister, and in that way, I will always love her, despite what she was, despite all the horrible things she did. But I wasn't_ in_ love with her, if that's what you're thinking. I spared her, showed her mercy, because I loved her like a sister, not because she had my heart."

Brienne's eyes were startlingly cold as she stared back at him, and Jaime knew his words had hurt her. But she'd asked for honesty, and that was what he intended to give her. He would tell her the truth, all of it, even if it hurt them both.

"And then what happened?" Brienne asked, her tone as icy as her stare.

Jaime lifted his hand and rested it on the table. He fidgeted with the knife beside his plate as he fought to continue the story. "Tyrion thought I had gone to the Red Keep to help Cersei escape. I didn't want anyone to know the truth at that point. I hadn't quite come to terms with it myself. So Tyrion arranged for a dinghy to be left for us in a small cove just beyond the tunnels. The plan was for Cersei and me to escape through the tunnels and then row to safety. It wasn't a very good plan, but then, it didn't have to be. I never expected to escape the Red Keep with my life. But when I saw the fear in Cersei's eyes, the fear for her life and for the life of our unborn child, I . . . I knew I had to do something. I at least had to try."

"So the rumors were true then? Cersei was pregnant with your child?"

"She was," Jaime said softly, the loss of the unborn babe still painful for him even after six long months. "She was pregnant with my child, which is why, in those last moments, I tried to find a way out. I knew it was hopeless, but I couldn't stop myself."

"Because you're always going to love Cersei more than you love anyone else, even yourself."

Jaime's fingers tightened around the knife, and he felt the urge to stab something. "I'm not in love with Cersei!" he nearly shouted. "I felt guilty for abandoning her, for going to King's Landing just to kill her and our unborn child. I knew she was going to die. I thought _I _was going to die! I thought the least I could do was comfort her as the walls fell around us. I'm sorry if you think that means more than it does. I'm sorry if you can't believe that I'm telling you the truth, but I am. Every word I have said to you has been the truth. But if you would rather believe otherwise, there is absolutely nothing I can do to change that. You'll believe what you want to believe, no matter what I say or do."

Jaime expected Brienne to get up from the table and storm from the room. But she didn't. She just turned her face away from him and stared at the line of windows on the opposite wall.

The silence was almost unbearable as Jaime waited for her to respond. It was a very long time before she finally looked at him again. When she did, all she said was, "I believe you."

Jaime exhaled a relieved sigh, his shoulders slumping and his fingers relaxing against the knife.

"However," Brienne continued, "that doesn't change anything. You could have been honest with me from the start. You could have told me why you were going to King's Landing, but you didn't. Instead, you chose to leave me standing in the yard, crying my heart out, as you rode off to be with the woman you once loved."

"I told you why I did that, why I didn't tell you the truth."

"Yes, you said you did it so that I wouldn't follow you, that you did it to protect me. But who gave you the right to make such an important decision about my life? When we were together," her voice quavered ever so slightly, "I thought we were equals—"

"We _are_ equals."

"And equals in a relationship do not keep secrets from each other. They do not make life-altering decisions without consulting each other. They don't lie because they think it's what's best for the other person. You did everything wrong, Jaime, regardless of your intentions. I am not a helpless damsel who needs protecting. I never have been. And the fact that you could even think such a thing makes me realize that you never truly knew me at all. And you obviously never respected me."

"I respect you more than I have ever respected anyone in my entire life. I made you a knight, for gods' sakes! I wouldn't have done that if I didn't think you were the bravest, truest soul I had ever known."

"And yet, you left me alone at Winterfell so that you could go play the big, strong, self-sacrificing hero in King's Landing. Thank you, Jaime, but no thank you. I think I've had enough for one night."

Brienne threw her napkin onto the table and stood, and Jaime instantly scrambled out of his chair.

"Brienne, please—"

She held up a hand, stopping him. "I don't want to hear any more tonight. Tomorrow, when you and I see each other in the small council chamber, we will forget all about this, forget that it ever happened. Forget that any of it ever happened. I have a duty to the king, a duty to the realm. I will do what is required of me as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I will work with you if I have to, but there will never be anything between us again, Jaime Lannister. We will sit together on the small council, we will work together when we must, but that is all."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Jaime said, barely able to catch his breath. He felt like he'd just been punched in the gut.

"So am I," Brienne replied, her voice cracking. Jaime thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes, but it might have been a trick of the light. "Good night, Lord Jaime."

"Good night, Ser Brienne."

Brienne turned around and quietly exited the room, leaving Jaime alone with his regrets.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Brienne was trembling as she made her way back to her own chamber. She didn't want to think about Jaime Lannister anymore, but she couldn't control the direction of her own thoughts. She believed him when he said he was no longer in love with Cersei. She believed him when he said he had gone to King's Landing to end Cersei's life. But none of that really mattered. Regardless of his intentions, Jaime had ripped out her heart and torn it to pieces. He had treated her like some helpless female who wasn't strong enough to know the truth, wasn't strong enough to protect herself, and that alone was enough to make Brienne never want to see him again.

She felt like such a fool. For the first time in her life, she had finally opened herself up to someone, let someone see just how truly vulnerable she was, and it had ended in betrayal and heartbreak. Not only had Jaime lied to her about his reasons for returning to King's Landing, but after he'd survived and fled the Red Keep, he'd kept his very existence a secret from her—_for her own good!_ Brienne was still reeling from the revelation that Jaime was alive, and she had yet to even begin coming to terms with what she was feeling. She still grieved for the man she had lost, the man she had loved, the man she wasn't sure had ever really existed at all.

When Brienne finally reached her room, she bolted the door and slumped back against it, forcing herself to take a slow, deep breath. She was still shaking. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door, desperately trying to calm her frayed nerves. In the refuge of her own mind, she pictured herself on the battlefield, about to face a particularly challenging opponent. At her side, she curled her hand around the hilt of an imaginary sword to ground herself. After a few more deep breaths, her body finally began to relax and she knew it was safe to open her eyes.

Brienne pushed herself away from the door and began stripping off her clothes. Once she was down to just her long linen undertunic, she crawled into bed and willed herself to sleep, refusing to spare a single thought for the man who had broken her heart.

* * *

The next morning, Brienne awoke still feeling unsettled, but she did her best to ignore her unease. She took her time getting dressed and eating breakfast before heading to the small council chamber for the morning meeting. She was dreading seeing Jaime again, but she had a duty to perform, and her duty was more important than her aversion to Jaime Lannister.

When Brienne reached the small council chamber, Jaime was already there, in the company of Sam and Ser Davos. He was sitting fully upright in his chair—_her _chair, though she refused to ever sit in it again—chatting amiably with the other men. His demeanor was markedly different from the previous morning. He wasn't hunched over in his seat, looking like he didn't even deserve to be there. Oh, no, he looked like the privileged nobleman that he was, the new Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. Had circumstances been different, Brienne would have been happy for him. But as things stood at the moment, she found his recent stroke of good fortune slightly irritating.

As Brienne stepped into the room, Ser Davos called out to her, "Good morning, Ser Brienne."

"Good morning, Ser Davos," she said with a congenial nod in his direction. Then, she turned her attention to Sam. "Good morning, Grand Maester."

"Good morning, Lord Commander."

Brienne made a point of not greeting Jaime. Instead, she continued to the table and sat down across from him, keeping her shoulders back and her head held high.

He met her gaze directly and said, "And don't I get a _good morning_, Ser Brienne?"

"It seems from the smug look on your face that you're already having a good morning, so you certainly don't need me to wish you one."

"Oh, but I would much prefer it if you would."

"You can prefer what you like, but I only reserve my well-wishes for my friends, and as you know, I no longer count you among them."

"Ouch," Jaime exclaimed, clutching his chest in mock pain. "I don't think I quite deserved that. I was hoping you would say, _Good morning, Ser Jaime_, so that I could say, _Good morning, Ser Brienne_. See how pleasant that sounds? So much nicer than being petty and childish, don't you think?"

Jaime was right, of course. She was being petty and childish, and she was better than that.

"My apologies, _Lord _Jaime," Brienne said, using his new title even though he hadn't. "You are right. It was small of me to deny you my good wishes. So I say, good morning, Lord Jaime. I hope you are well this glorious day."

The corner of Jaime's mouth quirked in a half smile. "Good morning to you, _Lady_ Brienne. I hope this day brings you great happiness."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Bronn's voice carried through the doorway as he and Tyrion entered the room. "Please don't tell me we're gonna have to spend the rest of our lives watching these two flirt with each other every damn morning. If we are, gods help me, I'm going to need a hell of a lot more wine."

"You and me both," Tyrion rejoined.

Jaime glared at his brother, and Brienne wished she had the freedom to do the same, but Tyrion Lannister was still Hand of the King, and she had no desire to get on his bad side.

Bronn pulled out the chair next to Jaime's and plopped himself down into it. He stretched out his legs in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest as if he were sitting in a tavern waiting for a drink and not in the small council chamber waiting for the morning meeting to begin.

Tyrion, for his part, pulled himself up into his chair at the head of the table and tried his best to look dignified.

"We're not flirting," Jaime answered before Brienne could reply.

"Oh, you're not?" Bronn asked. "Then what would you call it? Eye fucking?"

Sam snorted, and Brienne turned her head to glare at him.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, his head down, his cheeks turning red. "I didn't mean to laugh."

Jaime turned his attention back to Tyrion. "Can we please just get on with the small council meeting?"

Tyrion sat up a little taller and awkwardly shuffled some papers in front of him. "Of course. We've got a lot to cover this morning, and the sooner we get started, the better."

"Now, wait a minute," Bronn said, leaning forward in his chair. "I wanna settle this first before we get started."

Brienne clenched her hands beneath the table. If she'd thought she could get away with it, she would have punched Bronn in the face.

"You don't really want to do that," Jaime said, his voice holding more than just a friendly warning.

"'Course, I do. I think we all need to know what's going on between you two so we can all work effectively together as a small council."

"Horseshit," Brienne said, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

Everyone at the table turned to look at her.

Bronn laughed. "Do you have somethin' to say, _Ser_ Brienne?"

"This has nothing to do with the small council. You just can't keep your nose out of other people's business."

Bronn shrugged. "Maybe. Still doesn't change the fact that I wanna know what's going on. So—"

"That's enough," Jaime warned.

"Oh, is it?" Bronn asked, raising a brow in challenge. "I don't think so. It's obvious to everyone here that you want to fuck Ser Brienne. Now, I know you've fucked her before—"

"She's Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. She's taken a vow of celibacy. For you to even suggest—"

Bronn laughed again. "Really, is that what you think?"

Tyrion cleared his throat loudly. "That's enough of this. We will not continue arguing the matter. I think we can all agree to disagree."

"Well, I can't," Bronn replied.

"And neither can I," said Jaime.

Tyrion sighed heavily. "In that case, we will take a vote on the matter. Everyone here who thinks that the Master of War wants to fuck the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and vice versa, say aye."

A volley of hands went up around the table, and Brienne's cheeks flamed hotly. Everyone voted except for her and Jaime, and she was utterly mortified.

"Ser Davos!" Brienne scolded, having believed that at least the Onion Knight respected her enough not to play Tyrion's games.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he said with a hint of shame in his voice, "but the Hand of the King asked for my opinion and I could not lie. My apologies."

Davos lowered his hand, and the other council members did the same.

"Now," Tyrion continued, "all those who don't think—"

"Yes, we get the idea," Jaime said, cutting him off and raising his hand to cast his vote.

Even though it was the stupidest, most juvenile thing Brienne had ever done in her life, she raised her own hand, determined to defend herself.

"Fine," Tyrion said. "Four votes for and two votes against. Therefore, Lord Jaime, Ser Brienne," he nodded to each of them in turn, "you must concede that you both want to fuck each other, so that we can get on with the small council meeting."

"I concede nothing," Brienne answered. "In fact, I propose we take another vote."

"Another vote? That's highly unorthodox."

"All of this is highly unorthodox, and frankly, a bit insulting." Without waiting for Tyrion's permission, Brienne polled the council. "All those who think the Lord Hand secretly wants to fuck the Queen in the North, say aye."

Tyrion's face paled as every hand at the table went up, except for his and Sam's.

Tyrion turned away from Brienne and looked at the Grand Maester. "Thank you, Sam. At least someone here understands that my admiration for the queen is purely innocent."

"Oh, it isn't that, my lord," Sam said with a nervous laugh. "It's just that Lady Brienne said _secretly_, and to be honest, it's not really a secret."

Bronn howled with laughter, and Tyrion turned bright red. For a moment, Brienne felt quite satisfied with herself, and when her eyes inadvertently met Jaime's, the smile he gave her told her he appreciated the effort.

Brienne quickly broke his gaze and turned her attention back to Tyrion. When the laughter finally died down, he said, "I think that's enough nonsense for one morning. The next person here who talks about fucking is getting thrown out of the small council chamber."

"Is that a promise?" Bronn asked. "'Cause if it is, I've got better places to be than this."

"Enough!"

Tyrion's frustration only elicited more chuckling from those around him, but finally, the council settled down and the meeting began in earnest.

Brienne tried to concentrate on the meeting but found Jaime's presence highly distracting. Even though he never once met her gaze or spoke to her directly, she was keenly aware of him. She struggled not to look in his direction, but it was difficult. Bronn's teasing had been wholly uncalled for, but it had made her wonder, did Jaime still want her? He had denied it, of course, but had he been telling the truth, or had he just been trying to protect her honor? Although Brienne had sworn there would never be anything between them again, she was curious to know how Jaime felt about her. Had he made use of the girls in the fishing village where he had spent the past six months, or had he remained faithful to her even though he'd thought never to see her again?

Brienne felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and she shifted her gaze down the table to focus her attention on Tyrion. He was going on about grain stores or something of the sort, and Brienne tried her best to concentrate on what he was saying. She saw Tyrion's mouth move, heard his voice, but his words didn't penetrate her brain. Instead, her thoughts once again strayed to Jaime.

When Jaime had argued with Bronn, he'd asserted that she'd taken a vow of celibacy. Is that what he thought? That she had sworn off men because of her position in the Kingsguard? Clearly, he didn't know that the vows had been changed, and Brienne was certain it was for the best. Jaime thought she was forbidden to take a lover, which meant he would not come to her again.

Brienne knew she should be thankful for that, but even so, she couldn't help but feel the slightest pang of regret. Jaime Lannister was the only man who had ever seen her as a woman, a real woman, beautiful and sexual and desirable. His touch had made her feel wanted and loved, and she knew she would never experience that again. And it hurt. If Jaime hadn't taken a lover yet, he would eventually. He was too young and too handsome to spend the rest of his life celibate. And when he did take a lover, it would be right there in King's Landing, maybe right there in the Red Keep, and Brienne would hear every sordid detail through the palace gossip. And it would break her heart. But she had already chosen her path, and she would not change course now, no matter how much her heart was tempted.

The nights Jaime had spent in Brienne's bed had been glorious! Although she had often imagined what it would be like to lie with a man, she had never truly let herself believe that it would happen. It had always been a silly fantasy, the one feminine thing she had allowed herself. And then, the night after they had defeated the Night King, Jaime had come to her chamber, just a little bit drunk, and had made all her dreams come true.

That night, Brienne had thought her joy would only last until the sunrise, but the next morning, Jaime had still been by her side, and he had remained by her side until the night he had left her crying in the yard.

Brienne shook herself, chasing away the memory. She could feel tears threatening behind her eyes, and she knew she had to quell them quickly, lest any of the men at the table see her weakness. If Ser Bronn detected even a hint of moisture in her eyes, he'd rib her mercilessly for it.

The meeting ended without further incident, and Brienne was more than a little relieved. As she rose from the table, she accidentally caught Jaime's eye, and they stared at each other for a moment, Brienne's heart beating wildly beneath her breast.

"Jaime," Tyrion's voice broke the silence between them. "Do you have a minute?"

Jaime turned to look at his brother, and Brienne exhaled a sigh of relief. She didn't stay long enough to hear Jaime's answer. She just slipped from the room as quietly as she could, glad that she had somehow survived yet another encounter with Jaime Lannister.


	17. Chapter 16

Author's Note: I feel like I end up adding this disclaimer to every GoT story I write, but it's worth mentioning here that this fic is based on the television series and not the books. As such, it follows the show version of what happened between Tyrion and Tysha, which is why Jaime believes that no woman has ever truly loved Tyrion before.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Jaime glared at Tyrion, not the least bit happy about his brother's interference. He and Brienne had been sharing a moment, fleeting though it had been, and Tyrion had ruined it. Though, truth be told, Jaime knew it wouldn't have lasted much longer. Brienne would have turned away eventually, and he would have taken her rejection far too much to heart.

"What is it?" Jaime snapped, surprised by how petulant he sounded.

"Close the door. I'd like to talk."

"Must we really?"

"It's not about Brienne, I promise. It's about Queen Sansa."

Jaime stared down at Tyrion, wondering just what kind of trouble his brother was getting himself into. Although Brienne was certain that Sansa loved Tyrion just as much as Tyrion loved Sansa, Jaime wasn't so sure. Even though Sansa Stark had once been his sister-in-law, he scarcely knew her, but from what he'd seen on his last trip to Winterfell, she wasn't exactly the sentimental type. She was a hard, cold, calculating woman, much like Cersei, and Jaime feared she was going to break Tyrion's heart.

"All right," Jaime conceded, "but I don't want to hear a word about Brienne."

"Of course."

Jaime crossed the room and closed the chamber door before sitting back down at the table. As soon as he was settled, he said, "So, what is it?"

"Take a look at this." Tyrion leaned forward in his chair and slid a piece of parchment in front of Jaime. "I was up all night making it. It's a list of the pros and cons of each of the potential matches the northern lords have chosen for Sansa, and I'm afraid I've found them all lacking."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Turn it over."

Jaime turned over the parchment and found a single name written on the other side: _Tyrion Lannister_. Beneath it was a long list of reasons why he was a terrible match for Sansa Stark. He was a dwarf, he was a murderer, he had no title, no land, he was almost a foot and a half shorter than her. The list went on and on and on. And then beside it, in a column all its own, was a single reason why he was a good match for the Queen in the North. All it said was: _I love her_.

Jaime's heart felt heavy in his chest, and he had to fight back a tear for his brother. Tyrion had had a difficult life. He'd been searching for love since the day he'd been born, and he'd only ever caught rare glimpses of it. As far as women were concerned, Tyrion had never truly captured anyone's heart. But maybe the gods had finally taken pity on him. Maybe, after so many years of searching, he had finally found love, even if he didn't know it yet.

"Well?" Tyrion asked after a long silence.

"Well, what?"

"Those are the choices, and I need to give Brienne an answer, sooner rather than later. And despite the fact that I am the smartest man in all of Westeros, I just can't seem to make a decision."

Jaime turned the parchment over so that the list Brienne had given Tyrion was once again visible. "If you were choosing for anyone but Sansa Stark, who would you choose?"

"Please don't ask me that."

"And why not?"

"Because I hate the answer."

Jaime's eyes scanned the parchment, trying to decide which of the names Sansa Stark would find the most desirable and which Tyrion would find the most objectionable. Although Jaime was only vaguely familiar with some of the names on the list, he read Tyrion's comments on each candidate and soon made his choice. He knew who he would match Sansa Stark with if his brother hadn't been in love with her. He wondered if Tyrion had made the same choice.

Jaime lifted his eyes from the parchment and looked at Tyrion again. "Gendry Baratheon?"

"Fuck."

Clearly, he'd chosen correctly.

Jaime put down the list. "What are you going to do?"

"Give Lady Brienne my answer. What else can I do?"

"Travel to Winterfell and confess your undying love? You can make it in less than a moonturn if you're traveling alone."

A cynical laugh escaped Tyrion's throat. "You don't seem to understand my situation, do you? Although I may be Hand of the King, I'm still little more than a prisoner here. Bran appointed me to this position as a punishment, as a way for me to do penance for all my many sins. I'm not free to leave. I never have been."

Jaime stared at Tyrion, disturbed by his reply. Although Tyrion had never spoken a single word against his new king, Jaime was troubled by the fact that Bran had made his brother a virtual prisoner in King's Landing. Jaime was already wary of everything Bran said and did, and this new information certainly didn't help matters.

"Can't you do your penance at Winterfell just as easily as you can do it here?" Jaime asked, trying to find a way to help Tyrion escape the trap he'd found himself in.

"I don't think that would be penance," Tyrion replied. "Just being in Sansa's presence would give me far too much joy. It wouldn't quite be a punishment anymore, would it?"

"If she married someone else, it would."

Tyrion's eyes fell to the parchment, and he fidgeted awkwardly in his chair. "Yes, that would be punishment indeed. But having to choose her husband is its own kind of punishment, or at least, having to consult on the matter. I wish Brienne hadn't asked me, wish I hadn't heard anything about it until after the deed was done."

Jaime's heart ached for Tyrion. Even if Sansa Stark did return his affections, it didn't mean that Bran would ever set Tyrion free or allow them to wed. All it meant was that Sansa would have to marry a man she didn't love, and Tyrion would have to stand idly by and watch it happen. It was a tragic situation, and Jaime wished there was something he could do about it. After all, at least one Lannister deserved to be happy, and Jaime knew it was never going to be him.

"Is there anything I can do?" Jaime asked. "Anything at all?"

"There is one thing," Tyrion said, raising his eyes to Jaime's again, "but you'll think I'm meddling if I ask, and I promised not to meddle anymore."

Jaime sighed, not sure that he wanted to hear it. "What is it?"

"I don't think I can talk to Brienne about this without betraying how I really feel—"

"Everyone already knows how you really feel."

"But the back of the list," Tyrion said, nodding toward the parchment. "It's one thing for everyone to know that I'm smitten with Sansa, but it's another thing entirely for me to openly admit the true depths of my feelings for her. Can you please give Brienne my answer, explain it to her as I've explained it there? Please?"

Jaime had no desire to hunt Brienne down and force her to listen to him again. He knew she didn't want to hear anything he had to say, regardless of the subject matter. But the mournful look in Tyrion's eyes was too much for Jaime to take. Tyrion was in pain. He felt worthless and ashamed, and he didn't want to bare his soul to anyone, least of all one of Sansa's closest confidants.

Despite his reservations, Jaime consented to Tyrion's request. "All right, I will speak to her on your behalf."

"Thank you," Tyrion said, his shoulders slumping in relief. "If there was some other way, I wouldn't even ask. But I fear that my pride has been wounded enough for one morning, and I don't think I could take much more."

Jaime picked up the parchment, perusing Tyrion's notes one more time, committing them to memory, before folding the paper in half. "What do I do if she wants this back?" Jaime asked, holding the list up between them. "All your secrets are clearly written on the back."

Tyrion plucked the list from Jaime's fingers and stuffed it in his pocket. "Tell her that I still have it. That I am keeping it for future reference."

Jaime nodded. "Fine. But if she wants it back, you'll have to deal with her, not me."

"Fair enough."

Jaime pushed his chair away from the table and stood, and Tyrion scrambled to his feet.

"Will I see you for dinner?" Tyrion asked. "I have a mountain of work waiting for me in my solar, but I should be free this evening."

"Of course. I will see you then."

Jaime offered Tyrion a reassuring smile before leaving the room and going in search of Brienne. He hadn't been back at the Red Keep long enough yet to have learned her routine, and he wasn't sure if he would find her in her chambers or out in the training yard. Although he didn't feel he had a right to just barge into the White Sword Tower without her approval, the sooner he found her and delivered Tyrion's message, the sooner he could get on with his life.

Jaime was halfway to the tower when he chanced upon Podrick.

"My lord," Podrick said politely as they both stopped in the corridor to greet each other.

"Ser Podrick."

"May I ask where you're headed, my lord?"

Podrick had always been an amiable fellow, even shy at times, but now, there was warning in his gaze and ice in his voice. Jaime didn't have to wonder what he had done to offend the lad. He had betrayed Podrick's lady, and for that, he knew the young knight might never forgive him.

"I am on a mission from Lord Tyrion," Jaime answered. "He has asked me to deliver a private message to Ser Brienne."

"I can deliver the message," Podrick said, holding out his hand as if waiting for Jaime to hand him a missive.

"I must deliver it personally, as per the Hand of the King."

Podrick snorted. "I wish Lord Tyrion would stop interfering in Lady Brienne's life. As much as I care for him—and believe me, I do—I will not allow either one of you to hurt her again. So, if you are headed to her chamber just to cause her more heartbreak—"

"No, of course not."

"Then why are you headed there? Really?"

Jaime sighed heavily. He had always liked Podrick, and it wounded him deeply to know that the boy now considered him the enemy. "I know why you're angry with me," Jaime said. "And I don't blame you in the least. If you had treated Brienne the way I have treated Brienne, I would feel the same way about you. But the fact of the matter is, she is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and I am the Master of War, and that means that she and I will have to deal with each other from time to time, even if none of us like it. Tyrion asked me to deliver a message to Ser Brienne regarding Queen Sansa. And since it is such a personal matter, I cannot leave the job to anyone else. I'm sure you understand."

"There are a lot of things I don't understand," Podrick replied. "Like why you left, or why you took advantage of Lady Brienne's affection for you and then broke her heart. How could you do that to her? After everything she did for you?"

Those were all very good questions, though Jaime didn't know how to answer them. It took him a moment to reply. "I know this may sound hard to believe, but my intentions were pure."

"I know I may be young, but I'm not stupid, so please, don't insult my intelligence. I know why you hurt her, because you're the same selfish, entitled knave you've always been. You left Brienne of Tarth—_Brienne of Tarth!_—for Cersei Lannister. How could you do such a thing?"

Jaime knew that he didn't owe anyone an explanation, least of all Podrick Payne, but he felt the need to explain himself anyway. He didn't want Podrick to hate him. They both cared about Brienne more than they cared about anyone else in the world. If there was one person who could understand why Jaime had done what he'd done, it was Podrick, if only he would listen.

"I was a fool," Jaime said, "and I thought I knew what was best for Brienne. I didn't leave Winterfell to be with Cersei. I left Winterfell to kill Cersei, and I failed. I let Brienne believe otherwise because I didn't want her to follow after me. You lived in the Red Keep when my sister was here. You know what she was like. I didn't want to put Brienne in her path, and I knew, if I told Brienne the truth, she would have insisted upon coming with me, and I didn't want her to die fighting my battle."

Podrick was silent for a spell, staring at Jaime as if considering every last word he had said. Podrick's eyes suddenly flickered away, and Jaime feared he was going to say something biting and cruel, but when he looked at Jaime again, all he said was, "Have you told her this?"

"Yes, but it didn't make any difference. She wants nothing to do with me, which is her right. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself or force my way into her life. I just want to do my job and stay out of her way as much as possible."

"You know you hurt her deeply, don't you?" Podrick said softly, not a hint of accusation in his tone.

"Yes, and if there were some way to take it all back, I would. But right now, all I can do is move forward and hope that Brienne gets past her anger, not for my sake, but for her own."

"And then what? What are your intentions?" Podrick asked, sounding very much like an older brother questioning one of his sister's suitors.

Jaime almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. "I have none. At best, I'd like us to be friends again. At worst, I suppose I just want to be able to pass her in the hallway without seeing anger in her eyes. That's all."

Podrick bobbed his head, silently contemplating Jaime's answer. "Are you sure that's all you want?"

"Of course it is. Brienne is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard now, and I would never ask her to break her vows."

"Break her vows?"

"Yes, her vows of celibacy and lifelong service. I could never ask her to do such a thing, especially not for me."

Podrick stared at Jaime curiously. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it, shaking his head. "I think it would be best if you let Brienne decide her own future, and if there's a place for you in it, I'm sure she'll let you know."

"Of course. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard certainly has no difficulty speaking her mind. So," Jaime said, wanting to get on with his mission, "may I go see her, or are you still determined to drive me away?"

"You may go, but please, don't let Lady Brienne know that I allowed it. I don't want her to be cross with me."

"I promise," Jaime said, raising his stump in the air, "on my honor."

Podrick eyed Jaime with a hint of skepticism. "All . . . all right then," he replied, "just don't be mean to her. She gets enough ribbing from Ser Bronn at the small council meetings."

"You needn't worry. I shall be perfectly chivalrous."

Jaime's words did nothing to erase the doubt from Podrick's face, but the boy bid him farewell anyway before continuing on to the main keep.

Jaime exhaled a heavy sigh and turned toward the White Sword Tower. He'd made a promise to Podrick Payne, and he intended to keep it.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Brienne stood by the window in her private chamber, staring out over Blackwater Bay. She'd had a trying morning, and even though she was supposed to be seeing to the day's correspondence, she couldn't seem to focus on work.

Brienne was used to being mocked and ridiculed by men. It had been a daily occurrence in her life since earliest memory. She had always been ungainly and awkward, never pretty or soft or delicate. Men laughed at her; women avoided her. It had been a very lonely life. But once Brienne had been knighted, once she'd been appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, she had expected that to change, but it hadn't. Ser Bronn took great pleasure in taunting her whenever he could, and that morning, even the rest of the small council had joined in on the joke. Of course, they had teased Jaime just as much as they had teased her, but it still hurt. And now, even half an hour later, her cheeks stung with heat at the memory.

A gentle knock at the door pulled Brienne back to the present, and she inhaled a deep, slow breath, determined to calm her nerves. She was sure her face was red, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she squared her shoulders, turned around, and said, "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Jaime took a tentative step inside. "May I have a moment of your time, Ser Brienne?"

Brienne inched her spine even straighter, desperate to appear in control of the situation even though nothing could have been further from the truth. "I am very busy, my lord. I do not have a moment to spare."

"And I understand that," he said, taking another step forward, "but I haven't come here to talk to you on my own behalf. I am here with a message from the Hand of the King."

Of course he was. Brienne wasn't the least bit surprised that Tyrion had sent Jaime to her on some ridiculous mission. He seemed determined to push the two of them together, no matter what the cost.

But Brienne couldn't say any such thing. Tyrion was the Hand of the King, and at that moment, she valued her position more than she valued her pride. "In that case," Brienne said, "come in and shut the door."

"Thank you, my lady."

Brienne was unnerved by Jaime's choice of address. _My lady_ sounded far too intimate, and she wished he would go back to calling her _Ser Brienne_.

Jaime closed the door behind him and moved farther into the room while Brienne crossed to her desk. She lowered herself into her chair, inviting Jaime to take the seat opposite her. He sat down, his posture almost as rigid as her own, and met her eyes with startling directness.

Brienne fought the urge to break his gaze. Instead, she raised her chin a little higher and said, "Why has Lord Tyrion sent you?"

"Last night, you asked for his advice regarding a potential husband for Queen Sansa. Tyrion has made his decision, and he asked me to deliver it to you."

"And why didn't he come himself?" Brienne already knew the answer, but she asked anyway, wondering what kind of excuse Jaime would give her.

"Do you want the official version, or do you want the truth?"

"I always want the truth, even if it's painful."

Jaime flinched, and Brienne couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction. Clearly, he'd understood the meaning behind her words.

"Tyrion may be the second most powerful man in Westeros," Jaime said, "he may even be _the_ most powerful man in Westeros, but when it comes to love, he is extremely vulnerable. He didn't have the heart or the courage to come himself. He's ashamed of what he feels, of what he hopes for, and he knew he could never discuss the matter with you without betraying the true depth of his feelings for Sansa Stark. So he asked me to come in his stead, to save what little is left of his pride."

Brienne sighed heavily. Although she had assumed that Tyrion had sent Jaime as some kind of ploy to push them together, she could see now that that wasn't the case. Jaime's words were sincere, the pain in his eyes was sincere. He felt for his brother, grieved for him, and he was just trying to do what he thought was right. It was obvious that Jaime didn't want to be there any more than she did and that they were both just trying to do their duty.

"Very well, then," Brienne replied, her tone softening just a bit. "And what did Lord Tyrion send you to report?"

"After examining all the names and debating their worthiness, he believes, from an objective standpoint, that Gendry Baratheon would be the best match for Sansa Stark."

Brienne tensed. Sansa had told her what had happened between Gendry and Arya, and Brienne knew that Tyrion had chosen the worst possible name on the list. She almost said as much, but she held back, wanting to hear the reasoning behind Tyrion's choice.

"And why Gendry Baratheon?" Brienne asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Because he was the only man on the list that Tyrion thought worthy of her."

Brienne snickered, unable to stop herself. "Worthy of her? How can a man who's in love with her sister be worthy of her?"

Jaime shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I think Tyrion's opinion on the matter is that, given enough time, Gendry Baratheon will be able to overcome his feelings for Arya Stark and devote himself to Queen Sansa."

"Ha!" Brienne laughed, not even trying to hide her disdain. "That's not how love works. Maybe that's how it works for you and your brother, but that isn't how it works for the rest of us."

"That's not how it works for me," Jaime said, his voice low and soft.

"Isn't it? I thought your devotion was as fickle as the wind, swaying back and forth, never fixed for any great length of time."

"That's not fair."

"Of course it's fair. Just because it's so easy for you to forget those you've cared for, does not mean that Lord Gendry will be able to forget Lady Arya. He loves her deeply, and that love will not fade with time, it will not disappear so that he can happily marry her sister."

Jaime leaned forward in his chair, moving in closer. "I haven't forgotten anything," he said, his words thick with emotion. "I haven't forgotten a single moment that you and I spent together. Not our time on the road, not our time in your bed. I've never forgotten, Brienne, and I've never stopped loving you."

Brienne's breath caught in her throat, and her whole body trembled. Despite her best intentions, tears stung her eyes, and she fought to hold them back. Jaime had never confessed his love for her before, not even in the dark, quiet hours they had spent alone in her room. But now, he spoke the words with a passion that she couldn't ignore. He meant what he had said. He loved her, or at least, he believed he loved her, and that was more than Brienne had ever expected.

Brienne inhaled a long, slow breath, willing her body under control. For one brief, glorious moment, she allowed herself to believe that it was all true, that Jaime loved her and her alone. But she knew it was just a fantasy, a dream. It was easy for Jaime to say that he loved her now that Cersei was gone. She was his second choice, and she knew she deserved better than that.

"And yet," Brienne said, "you're never going to love me as much as you loved her."

Jaime pulled back, clearly startled by her reply. He had just poured out his heart to her, and no doubt, he had expected her to rejoice in his confession. "Why must you compare?" he asked, his tone almost hollow.

Brienne laughed, her whole body shaking with the effort. "Why must I compare? Because you couldn't admit that you loved me while she still lived, and that tells me everything I need to know about the place I hold in your heart."

"No, it doesn't," Jaime said, his voice hard.

"Yes, it does. And if you're through delivering your message, Lord Jaime, I would like you to leave."

Jaime looked away for a moment, and Brienne could see his anger seething just beneath the surface. He wanted to say something but was having difficulty finding the words. Whatever it was, she had no desire to hear it. She just wanted him to leave.

After a long silence, Jaime finally turned back to Brienne. There was still anger in his eyes, and she knew he had no intention of leaving until he'd said his piece.

"Do you want to know why I didn't tell you that I loved you when we were together back at Winterfell?" Jaime asked.

"Not particularly."

"Because I was afraid."

"Afraid?" Brienne laughed again. "Of what? Of me?"

"Yes, of you."

"That's absurd."

"Is it? Is it really?" Jaime moved in close again. "Do you have any idea how many women I have loved in my life?"

Brienne inched back in her chair, desperate to put more space between them. The sincerity in Jaime's eyes was making her uncomfortable, and she suddenly felt quite vulnerable. "I honestly don't care."

"Two. My sister and you."

Brienne looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Hearing Jaime openly admit that he had been in love with his own sister was highly unsettling. Of course, Brienne had already known—everyone in Westeros knew—but hearing the words somehow made it worse.

"Brienne, look at me," Jaime urged.

"I can't."

"Fine. But I'm going to say what I have to say anyway, whether you can bear to look at me or not. I have loved two women in my life. Just two. My sister and you. There has been no one else. Not even in a physical sense. I was always true to Cersei. Always. Even when she was married to Robert. Even when she was sleeping with our cousin Lancel and gods only know who else. I was always true to her, her devoted and loyal servant. She was my world, and I would have done anything for her."

"Yes, I know," Brienne replied, still refusing to look at him. "You read me the litany of your sins the night you left Winterfell. I know the things you did for Cersei. I know how pathetic your love for her was."

"It was pathetic. You're right. I adored her, worshipped her. And I thought that would always be the case. I thought there wasn't a single woman in all the world who could steal my heart from her, but I was wrong."

Brienne knew Jaime wanted her to react to his words, but she refused to do so. She kept her eyes focused on the wall beside her, determined to deny him what he wanted.

When she didn't reply, Jaime continued, "I thought Cersei was the one, the one the gods had destined me to love since the day I was born. But then I met you, Brienne of Tarth, and I realized what a fool I had been." His voice softened, and there was a longing in his words that made Brienne's heart flutter beneath her breast. "I was afraid to tell you that I loved you because I'd never confessed my feelings to anyone before. Not like that. Cersei had always known that I loved her. In fact, she had almost commanded me to love her. But beyond that, I had never known any other woman, had never sworn myself to anyone true and virtuous, and I feared that if I did, it would all fall apart."

It was becoming more and more difficult for Brienne to keep herself from looking at Jaime. Her hands trembled against the arms of her chair, and her pulse quickened. She wanted to believe every word he had said, but she was afraid of being played for a fool. She had been a fool for Jaime Lannister once; she didn't want to be a fool for him again.

Brienne finally lost the battle with herself and turned toward Jaime, finding his eyes transfixed on her face. They were so warm and open and full of pain, and all she wanted to do was comfort him, but she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Her wounds were still far too fresh for her to just forgive him. Everything was happening so fast, and she needed to pull herself back before she ran headlong into heartbreak again.

"Do you mean that?" Brienne asked. "Or are you just saying all of this because you think it's what I want to hear?"

"I have no reason to lie. I know that you and I can never be together again. I know you've sworn yourself to the Kingsguard. I just wanted you to know how I felt, to know that I did love you—I do love you—and that that will never change, despite the fact that we can never be together."

Brienne eyed Jaime thoughtfully for a moment. She was still surprised that he didn't know that King Bran had changed the vows for the Kingsguard. She'd been certain that Tyrion would have told him by now. But perhaps this was just another one of Tyrion's manipulations. Perhaps he had kept it from Jaime on purpose, for his own twisted reasons. Whatever the case, Brienne wondered if it was time Jaime learned the truth.

"And what if I wasn't sworn to the Kingsguard?" she asked. "What if I were free? What then?"

Jaime shook his head as if he found the question absurd. "Then, I would do everything in my power to win you back. I would devote myself night and day to atoning for my sins, to convincing you to give me another chance. I love you, Brienne, and if there were any way for us to be together, I would fight for it. I would fight for us. I would do everything I could to show you just how much I love you, and I would never let you go."

Brienne pushed herself up from her chair, and Jaime quickly scurried to his feet.

"In that case, Lord Jaime, I look forward to seeing just how convincing you can be. If you want to win me back, you may try. Just make sure that your efforts are sincere because, if they're not, I have no problem challenging you to single combat to defend my honor."

Jaime stared at her in disbelief. "What . . . what about the Kingsguard?"

Brienne fought back a knowing smile. "You needn't worry about the Kingsguard. If you can prove your worthiness, I shall leave my post. But only if you can prove it. Now," Brienne said, her tone hardening, "if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do this morning. I will let Queen Sansa know Lord Tyrion's answer, though I can assure you she will not be happy with it."

But Jaime didn't answer. He just stood there staring at Brienne, his mouth moving but his voice silent.

"Really, my lord, I am quite busy. Please shut the door on your way out."

Brienne sat down and reached for her quill and a blank piece of parchment. She could still feel Jaime's eyes upon her as she concentrated on dipping her pen in the inkpot. Without looking up, she asked, "Is there something else?"

"No . . . no," Jaime stammered.

"In that case, I will see you tomorrow at the small council meeting."

Brienne pressed the nub of her pen against the parchment and began to compose her letter to Sansa. Nearly a full minute passed before Jaime finally moved away from the desk. Brienne listened as he crossed the room and slipped out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him.

The instant Jaime was gone, Brienne dropped her quill and slumped against the back of her chair. She stared at the door, allowing a small smile to curve her lips. Jaime Lannister loved her, truly loved her, and she hoped it was only a matter of time before he was finally able to prove his worthiness.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

After leaving the White Sword Tower, Jaime headed straight to his own chamber, his mind in a daze. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring blindly out the window, desperately trying to make sense of Brienne's words. She had said that if he could prove his worthiness, she'd leave the Kingsguard for him. Jaime didn't understand how such a thing was even possible. Brienne of Tarth was the most loyal, devoted person he had ever known. When she swore a vow, she swore it for life. How could she mean to leave the Kingsguard after she'd pledged herself to a lifetime of service?

Of course, there was one answer, though it was painful for Jaime to even consider. Perhaps Brienne had only made the offer because she truly believed that he couldn't prove his worthiness. What harm could there be in making such a promise if she knew she'd never have to fulfill it?

But that wasn't like Brienne either. Brienne wasn't manipulative. She wasn't like Cersei or even Tyrion. She was honest and forthright. She was everything good and pure and honorable, and Jaime couldn't fathom why she had said what she had said. It didn't make the least bit of sense.

Jaime considered going to Tyrion, asking his brother if he knew how Brienne could make such a declaration. But Tyrion had already meddled too much in their affairs, and Jaime didn't want to risk making things worse for Brienne. The more Tyrion and the rest of the small council knew about their dealings with each other, the worse things seemed to be for them both. Jaime didn't want to expose Brienne to any more ridicule. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, even though he knew she was more than capable of protecting herself.

Jaime collapsed back onto the bed, laying his hand behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. How glorious it would be to be back in Brienne's arms! In the six months since he'd been gone, he had not once allowed himself the sheer joy of imagining what it would be like to hold her again, to kiss her again. He hadn't thought himself worthy of Brienne even in his fantasies, but now, he could scarcely fight the urge to imagine what could be. She was so close, just on the other side of the keep. And all he had to do to win her back was convince her that he was worthy of her.

For a moment, Jaime let himself enjoy the fantasy. He imagined Brienne asking him to meet her in the White Sword Tower after a particularly tense small council meeting. He imagined her inviting him into her chamber and pushing him up against the door, sealing her mouth over his and kissing him passionately.

Jaime's cock stirred at the thought, and he clenched his hand beneath his head, fighting the impulse to alleviate his own discomfort. He didn't want to dishonor Brienne by doing something as loathsome as touching himself while he thought about her. Instead, he inhaled a long, hard breath, exhaling it slowly and willing his body under control.

Jaime pushed himself up off the mattress and got out of bed, determined to find some way to distract himself. He wanted to make Brienne proud of him. He wanted to win her favor. He vowed, from that moment forward, he would be the best Master of War the Red Keep had ever seen and everything he did would be worthy of the woman he loved.

The next morning when Jaime entered the small council chamber, he was prepared for the worst. After what had happened the previous morning, he was expecting more needling from Bronn. But after a few well-chosen jibes, Bronn settled down relatively quickly and the small council meeting got underway.

Although Jaime knew he was supposed to be paying attention to the proceedings, it was difficult for him to think of anything but Brienne. He still didn't have the slightest idea how he was going to prove himself to her, and he couldn't concentrate on much else. Even though he kept his eyes on Tyrion, he could see Brienne from the periphery of his vision, and she looked just as calm and in control as ever. When she'd first sat down across from him, she had given him a cool, yet not altogether unkind look before turning her attention to the head of the table.

The meeting was particularly long and boring, and Jaime paid little attention to what was going on around him until he heard Tyrion call his name.

"Jaime, are you listening?"

Jaime blinked several times, refocusing his vision on his brother. "Of course I'm listening."

"Really? Well, if that's the case, what did I just say?"

Jaime's gaze shifted away from Tyrion, catching amused looks from both Bronn and Brienne. It was obvious to everyone that he hadn't been paying attention, and he wasn't sure how to bluff his way out of it.

Jaime's eyes lingered on Brienne for a moment longer than necessary before turning back to Tyrion. "You were talking about the arrival of new recruits," Jaime said, suddenly remembering having heard something of the sort. "From Dorne."

Tyrion scowled. Clearly, Jaime had guessed correctly, and Tyrion was none too pleased that he'd shown him up in front of the rest of the small council. "Yes, Dorne," Tyrion said curtly. "I want you to go down to the harbor and take stock of them. Of course, your generals will be there to do the real work, but I want you to at least make an appearance so that everyone knows who's in charge."

Jaime opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get out a single word, Bronn leaned forward in his chair and said, "I think he should take the Lord Commander here with him. Until a few days ago, she was commanding the troops. Makes sense she should be there too."

Jaime's eyes darted to Brienne, instinctively trying to read her response. Without looking at either Tyrion or Bronn, Jaime said, "I'm sure the Lord Commander has better things to do with her time. I can go on my own."

Bronn leaned in closer. "What? Afraid to be left alone with her?"

But before Jaime could answer, Tyrion interjected, "Ser Brienne does not have to go with Lord Jaime. He can go well enough on his own."

Bronn turned and looked at Tyrion. "Really? I thought you were all for using your powers to force these two together."

"Well, yes, that was my original intention, but I have since promised my brother that I would stop meddling."

"What? Has he got something on you that I don't know about?"

Tyrion shook his head. "No. There's nothing you don't know about. You're worse than a fishmonger's wife."

"I'll go," Brienne said, instantly putting an end to Tyrion and Bronn's conversation.

Everyone at the table turned and looked at her in surprise.

"You don't have to—" Jaime began.

"It is my duty as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to see that you are properly trained," Brienne said, her eyes meeting Jaime's. "I will accompany you down to the harbor so that we can oversee the arrival of the Dornish recruits."

Jaime was stunned by Brienne's words. Although it was her duty to see that there was a smooth transition of power from Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to Master of War, Tyrion had given her a way out and she had been wholly within her rights to take it. The fact that she hadn't taken it said a great deal about her willingness to give him another chance.

"In that case," Tyrion replied, "you may both leave now if you like. The ship is scheduled to arrive within the hour."

Brienne instantly rose, and Jaime scrambled out of his chair. He could feel Bronn's eyes upon him, but he refused to be unnerved by it.

"Well, well, well," Bronn said, "this looks like it's going to work out quite nicely. Glad I thought of it."

Jaime didn't even bother to glance in Bronn's direction. He just kept his attention on Brienne, waiting for her to lead the way.

"Let's go," she said. "It will take some time to get down there, and I want to leave as soon as possible."

"Whatever you say, my lady," Jaime replied, bowing his head in deference to her.

There was a knowing laugh from Bronn, but both Jaime and Brienne ignored it. They turned together and made their way into the adjoining corridor, leaving the small council chamber behind.

With steady strides, they headed toward the stables, keeping pace together, side by side.

"You know, you really don't have to do this," Jaime said. "You'd be completely within your rights if you let me go alone."

Brienne cast Jaime a sidelong glance. "And let Lord Bronn think that the idea bothered me? Never!"

So that was it, was it? Brienne had agreed to accompany him, not because she wanted to work things out between them, but because she wanted to show Bronn that his taunts didn't bother her in the least. Jaime felt a distinct sense of disappointment. He had thought that, perhaps, Brienne had wanted to spend some time alone with him, but obviously, he'd been wrong.

"I'm surprised that you care what Bronn thinks," Jaime said. "I thought you were above caring what other people think of you."

"It isn't that I care. It's just that I know how much he enjoys tormenting me, and I have no desire to give him that satisfaction, that's all."

"He looked pretty satisfied to me. Seems he got exactly what he wanted."

Brienne's eyes darkened, but she didn't reply. She just turned her attention back to the path in front of them and kept walking.

It didn't take long for Jaime and Brienne to reach the stables and mount their horses. Jaime didn't have a horse of his own, of course. He had traveled from the Stormlands to King's Landing mostly on foot, occasionally hitching a ride on a passing wagon as he'd headed north. So upon their arrival at the stables, Brienne had chosen a mount for him, one she knew it would be easy for him to handle with just one hand, and then, they'd been on their way.

The dock where the troops were arriving wasn't far from the Red Keep, and when they reached it, the boat had just made anchor. Jaime and Brienne stopped their mounts several yards away, watching the men disembark. The new recruits were mostly boys, no older than the king himself.

Jaime and Brienne were close enough to see their faces, and although most of the boys looked tired from the journey, there was a glint of wonder in their eyes as they looked up and saw King's Landing for the first time. From a distance, the city walls still looked impressive and the tent city that sprawled beyond its gates was truly a wonder to behold. Jaime was thankful that the Six Kingdoms were still at peace. If it stayed that way, the boys before him might actually have a chance to reach manhood and become knights one day.

After a long time of silently watching the activity around them, Brienne asked, "So, what do you think?"

It took Jaime a moment to collect his thoughts. "I think . . . I think it's a start. I think it's better than what I expected. I expected the new recruits to look hungry and downtrodden, but they don't. And I must admit, it's a great relief."

"Apparently, things are a great deal more stable in Dorne. Those young men are eager to make something of themselves here in the capital. That's why I recruited them."

For a moment, Jaime had forgotten that it was Brienne's hard work that had brought these boys north to shore up their forces. She alone had made it happen, and she deserved all the credit.

"You've done an admirable job," Jaime replied. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather be Master of War than Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"

Brienne glanced at Jaime, eyeing him as if she wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not. Finally, she said, "Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was all that was offered to me. I'm sure that King Bran knows best."

"But does he?" Jaime had been wondering that very thing since the moment he'd returned to King's Landing. Everyone seemed to think that because Bran was the Three-Eyed Raven he knew what was best for everyone, but Jaime wasn't sure that was true. "Just because he's a seer doesn't necessarily mean that he always knows what's right. After all, he let Daenerys Targaryen lead her armies south and burn King's Landing. If he's truly as benevolent as everyone thinks he is, why would he do such a thing?"

Brienne turned to look at the troops again. She was quiet for some time, and Jaime was certain she wasn't going to answer, but finally, she said, "I don't believe that Bran can see the future. At least, not all of it. From what I hear, he catches glimpses of things, that's all. Perhaps he didn't know what was going to happen. Or perhaps it was what was meant to happen. All I know is that, since Bran has been king, there has been peace in Westeros, and I can't help but think he's the reason."

"Bran or my brother?" Jaime asked, still unconvinced that Bran Stark wasn't anything more than a useless figurehead.

"Bran, your brother, the small council, the lords of the Six Kingdoms, the smallfolk, everyone. This peace was not a result of one man's actions, but Bran holds it all together. If someone more ambitious were on the throne, we might already be embroiled in another war. I believe that Bran's indifference to his own power is what makes him a good king. And I believe he knows what's right for Westeros."

"And for you?"

Brienne finally turned and looked at Jaime again, and he wished he could read her emotions. Her gaze was cool, but not cold, and he had no idea what she was thinking. "I think the king is well aware of my talents and has placed me where I will best serve the realm."

"And he expects you to stay at your post for life." It was not a question. It was a statement of fact. One that contradicted Brienne's words from the night before. Jaime held his breath as he waited for her to reply. It was one thing for her to say she would leave the Kingsguard for him when they were alone together in the warm confines of her chamber, but here, in the harsh light of day, it was a lot more difficult to lie.

But Brienne had never been a liar, and she didn't lie to Jaime now. "No," she said, "I don't think he expects me to stay at my post for life."

Jaime's heart stopped beating as he stared at Brienne, the cool morning air tense between them. He had not expected such an answer, and he didn't know how to respond.

Brienne broke Jaime's gaze and turned away from him again, her attention settling on the troops. "It seems King Bran knows something about my future that I don't, though he has never said anything specific. I can't quite imagine ever leaving my post, but I suppose time will tell."

"But you've taken a vow for life."

Brienne sighed, and her shoulders slumped. It was the first sign all morning that she was in any kind of distress.

"What do you think of that lot over there?" she asked, nodding toward the harbor.

Jaime dragged his eyes away from Brienne, disappointed that the subject had suddenly changed, and turned back toward the dock.

A small group of young men had just stepped off the gangway and were being sorted into regiments. They were a straggly bunch, all very young and very small, and they were all being ushered toward the infantry.

"They look scrawny to me," Jaime answered. "I doubt they'll be anything more than arrow fodder."

"I think they have potential," Brienne said, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin a little higher. "They may be small, but they're scrappy, and I learned a long time ago that it's the ones who have the most to prove who make the best fighters."

"Oh, really?"

"Of course. Being a woman, I had no choice but to fight harder, to be better, than everyone else. And you, well," Brienne finally turned to look at him again, "you've been trying to prove yourself for a long time."

"And it seems all I've ever done is fail."

"So prove yourself now, Jaime Lannister. Go," she said, cocking her head toward the docks. "Go be Master of War. Go be the best damned Master of War this city has ever seen. Make those boys proud to serve under you. Do it for Westeros. Do it for yourself."

_Do it for me. _

Brienne didn't say the words, but Jaime heard them just the same. She was giving him a chance. She was pointing him in the right direction, showing him what she wanted. She wanted him to prove that he was the true, honorable, noble knight she had once believed him to be, and he was determined to do just that. For Brienne.

"All right," Jaime said, "I'll do it. I'll be the best Master of War that Westeros has ever seen."

"Good," Brienne replied. "Now go make yourself proud."


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

For the next few weeks, things were relatively peaceful at the Red Keep. After their talk down at the harbor, Jaime had settled quite nicely into his role as Master of War, and Brienne had been content to just sit back and observe his progress. He'd thrown himself into his work, spending his days training with his troops or conferring with his generals. It was clear that he intended to play an active role in organizing and commanding the king's forces, and Brienne was more than a little impressed.

Things had changed between them. Though they still weren't friends, they were able to work side by side together without any strife. There was an unspoken truce between them. As long as they didn't talk about Cersei or the past, everything was fine.

One morning, at the start of the small council meeting, Tyrion made an unexpected announcement. "It has been more than six months since King Bran was crowned ruler of the Six Kingdoms. As such, he has decided to host a modest celebratory feast to commemorate the event."

Bronn laughed. "And who's supposed to pay for that?"

"The crown will pay for it," Tyrion answered. "There is enough in our coffers to host a small gathering. Besides, King Bran intends to invite lords and ladies from every corner of the realm, and all those in attendance will be encouraged to bring an offering of good faith—gold, or jewels, or even supplies—something to aid the crown in its recovery efforts."

"So, you expect the lords and ladies of Westeros to fund this little endeavor?"

"Not fund exactly, just show their gratitude for being included on the guest list."

Bronn laughed again. "If that's what you call it. But I can promise you now, I'm not contributing a single copper penny of my own, so you can just forget it."

"I'm not asking you to contribute anything personally. Just do your duty and help me organize the damn thing." Tyrion turned to address the rest of the table. "And that goes for everyone else here as well. You will all attend, but you need not bring a gift for the crown. Your loyal service is gift enough."

Brienne failed to understand why such an event was even taking place. The people of King's Landing were struggling to put food in their stomachs and King Bran suddenly wanted to host a feast for the nobility? It seemed like an insult to the smallfolk, and Brienne had half a mind to say so, but she never got the chance.

"Pardon me," Jaime interjected, "but how can you justify spending precious funds on such an extravagant event when the smallfolk are starving?"

"I said modest," Tyrion replied. "Didn't any of you hear that part? A _modest _feast. And the smallfolk will not be excluded. There will be tents set up outside the city for them, and everyone will be invited to join in the festivities even if they're not invited to the Red Keep. This is not just a celebration for King Bran. This is a celebration for everyone. The mood in the city is bleak indeed, and the people could use something to lift their spirits, don't you think?"

Jaime tore his eyes away from Tyrion, and he and Brienne stared at each other across the table. It was obvious that neither one of them thought this feast was a good idea, but Bran and Tyrion had all the power and there was little they could do to stop it from happening.

Before Jaime could say another word, Sam spoke up. "I, for one, think it's a wonderful idea. Yes, it is going to cost the crown quite a bit of gold, but it's not as costly as a tournament, and it will attract a great deal of wealth to the city. The lords and ladies who come to the feast will bring their gold with them, and that can only be good for King's Landing."

"Oh, they'll bring their gold, all right," Bronn said, "but they'll keep it in their purses. How do you think the rich stay rich? By being tightfisted. They're not going to spend a single penny they don't have to. Mark my words."

Tyrion leaned back in his chair and eyed Ser Davos, who had remained silent on the matter thus far. "Ser Davos, what say you?"

Davos was thoughtful for a moment. His eyes scanned the length of the table, looking at each one of his fellow council members in turn. He seemed to be giving the matter serious thought. When he finally looked at Tyrion again, he said, "I understand why Lord Jaime thinks it's a bad idea. When you first suggested it, I thought it was a bad idea. But Sam is right about one thing. Those who come for the feast will bring their wealth with them, and that is something we can't ignore. King's Landing is stagnating, and an infusion of gold—and of people—can only be a good thing for the city. So, for that reason alone, I am for it."

As soon as Davos had said his piece, Tyrion turned his attention toward Brienne. Her eyes were once again locked with Jaime's, but she could feel Tyrion staring at her from the other end of the table. She knew what was coming before he even spoke.

"And what about you, Lord Commander? What do you think?"

The look in Jaime's eyes told her that nothing anyone had said had changed his mind, and she wasn't entirely sure what she thought herself.

Brienne dragged her eyes away from Jaime and looked at Tyrion. It took her a minute to collect her thoughts. The arguments the other council members had made had been quite compelling, and she was starting to see some benefit to hosting a celebration, if only to lift the people's spirits.

"I think that, as long as this feast is organized with discretion and economy, it might not be such a bad idea. I've been out in the streets. I've seen the people suffering. Their lives are the same, day in and day out. A feast might give them something to look forward to, something to lift their spirits, and in that regard, I think it a wise choice." She shifted her gaze from Tyrion to Bronn and looked at him pointedly. "That is, as I said, if it is done with discretion and economy."

Bronn snickered. "Do I look like I'm gonna waste a single coin more than I have to on this nonsense? King Bran'll get his feast, all right, but it's going to be on the cheap if I have anything to say about it."

Brienne was satisfied with that answer. Although Bronn was a blowhard and a braggart, although he liked his drink and his whores, he wasn't the worst Master of Coin the Red Keep had ever seen. He was surprisingly frugal when he wanted to be, mostly when Tyrion made him fund projects he didn't have any personal stake in.

"I would say we should take a vote," Tyrion said, "but the matter has already been settled. This is what King Bran wants, so it's what King Bran will get."

"Despite our objections?" Jaime asked.

Tyrion turned to look at his brother. "Despite your objections, yes. The matter is settled. Tomorrow we will begin discussing the particulars."

Jaime looked away from Tyrion, catching Brienne's eye. He wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but Tyrion had already put an end to the discussion and there was nothing more he could say on the matter.

The rest of the meeting proved uneventful, and soon, the group disbanded. Jaime and Brienne were the last to leave the small council chamber. He beat her to the door, stopping to wait for her there.

Brienne wasn't sure what Jaime wanted, but she was trying to keep things civil between them, so she asked, "Is there something you need, Lord Jaime?"

"You can't really think this is a good idea, can you? You said yourself, you've been out there, you know what it's like. How can Tyrion and Bran think this celebration is going to benefit anyone but the nobility?"

Brienne was surprised by just how much Jaime seemed to care about the smallfolk. Although he had once murdered a king to protect them, it wasn't often that he expressed an interest in their welfare. "Why do you care so much?" she asked, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"I've always cared about the people, you know that. Even though they've never much cared for me. And now, since I've lived among them, I care even more. This is just a rich man's folly, an excuse to eat and drink to excess in a time of great want. It isn't right, and I can't condone it."

Brienne had the overwhelming urge to reach out and place a comforting hand against Jaime's arm, but she fought it as if her life depended on it. She knew he had been through a lot. Even though she wasn't ready to forgive him just yet, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. He was hurt and angry, and all he wanted was for someone to hear his grievances.

"I understand your concerns," Brienne said softly, "but things are not getting better here. Not for the smallfolk, not for the lords in their lofty towers, not for anyone. Man cannot exist on bread alone. I hate to agree with Lord Bronn on anything, but he is of a mind that the taverns and brothels he's rebuilt are beneficial to the morale of the people, and I think he might be right."

"You can't be serious. You, Brienne of Tarth, agreeing with Ser Bronn of the Blackwater?"

Brienne laughed. "Perhaps I've sat across from him at one too many small council meetings."

But Jaime didn't reply. He just stared at Brienne as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. He stared at her as if he was utterly entranced by the sight of her. She had seen that look before, many times, when they'd been alone together in her bed.

"You need not stare at me like that," Brienne said, the heat rising in her cheeks. "I know what I said three weeks ago in the White Sword Tower, but there is very little hope of you ever being able to win me back."

Jaime shook his head. "I don't care. That's not why I'm staring."

Brienne's cheeks flamed even hotter. "Then, why are you staring?"

"Because I didn't think I would ever be able to make you laugh again, and I want to remember this moment in case it never happens again."

The breath caught in Brienne's throat as she stared back at Jaime. That was not at all the answer she had expected, and for a moment, she was stunned into silence. It was such a small thing for him to want, and yet, it told her so much about his feelings for her. He still found joy in just being near her, just as she found joy in being near him. Brienne knew she was in danger of falling for Jaime's charms again, so thoroughly and completely that there'd never be any turning back. But she also knew she wasn't ready for that yet. He had been back in her life for less than a moonturn now, and it was still too soon.

"Well," Brienne replied, choosing her words carefully, "it seems we are going to be serving on the small council together for the foreseeable future, so I'm sure you'll get another chance to make me laugh."

"Do you think so?"

"I don't see why not. And who knows, if you decide to attend this grand feast that King Bran is hosting, perhaps you'll even get a dance."

Jaime's eyes widened in disbelief, and Brienne finally stepped past him, a satisfied smile quirking her lips. It had been a long time since she'd danced with anyone, not since the ball her father had held in her honor. That had been a generally miserable affair, except for Renly's kindness. After that night, Brienne had thought she would never dance again, but now, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with Jaime Lannister.

Brienne headed down the hallway, but it took Jaime a moment to follow. She was halfway down the corridor before he fell into step beside her.

"Did you mean that?" he asked. "About dancing?"

Brienne turned to look at Jaime. "King Bran seems to want all of us present at this event. So, if I'm going to have to wear a dress anyway, it wouldn't hurt to get a dance or two out of it."

"Do you even like to dance?" Jaime's tone was curious, almost skeptical.

"I haven't always enjoyed it, but I think I might this time. And maybe, just like the people of King's Landing, now you'll understand just how important it is to have something to look forward to." Brienne eyed Jaime pointedly before turning her attention back to the path in front of them.

"Point taken, my lady."

"Good. Because if we have to go through with this whole feast thing, we both might as well enjoy it."

"And would you enjoy it? Dancing with me, that is?"

Brienne cast him a sidelong glance. "More than I'd enjoy dancing with your brother."

Jaime laughed. "Tyrion doesn't dance. At least, I've never seen him dance."

"I imagine if he did, I would not be his first choice of partner. Arya Stark maybe, simply because she's closer to him in height, though I imagine that would end in disaster."

"Or Tyrion getting stabbed."

Brienne laughed again, and Jaime smiled from ear to ear as he continued to gaze up at her. Brienne had to pull her eyes away from his before she simply collapsed at his feet.

"Well, then," she said, "I suppose this means you're all for the feast now."

"I think I may have changed my opinion on the matter."

"Good, then that means we're both looking forward to it."

And then, before he could say another word, Brienne turned the corner and headed toward the White Sword Tower, leaving a dumbstruck Jaime behind.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

For the next fortnight, Jaime made sure that everything he did was beyond reproach. He was on his best behavior every morning at small council meetings, and afterwards, he devoted himself to working with the troops under his command and organizing new and inventive ways to lure recruits to the capital. Even though Tyrion had forced him to be Master of War, Jaime found that he enjoyed his new position. It gave him a purpose, something to work at, something to make him feel better about himself. He was determined to right the wrongs of the past, and he was determined to be a better man for Brienne.

Jaime saw her every morning at small council meetings, but there was little spoken between them. And when they did speak, it was always about council business, nothing more. Brienne had given Jaime a chance to prove himself to her, but he had yet to figure out exactly how to do it. He wanted to shower her with grand gestures of love to prove his worthiness, but he knew Brienne would never be impressed by such trifles. She was a singular woman, and it was going to take a great deal more than shiny baubles and sweet words to win her back.

As Tyrion was so fond of pointing out, Jaime really didn't know all that much about women. Cersei had been the only woman he had ever angled to please, and she had been a wholly different creature from Brienne. If Brienne were the moon, then Cersei had been the sun. They both had given him light and life, but where Cersei had burned everything she'd touched, Brienne only soothed. They were literally as opposite as night and day, and experience with one did Jaime no good with the other.

One afternoon, after he'd finished maneuvers with his troops, Jaime retired to his chamber to ponder the matter further. He sat down at the small desk by the window and picked up the book he'd pilfered from what was left of the castle library. It was a small volume on courtly dance, bound in red leather and richly illustrated. Although Jaime could be quite graceful on the battlefield, when it came to dancing, he was woefully inexperienced. He'd never been permitted to dance with Cersei at any of the functions they'd attended together, and he'd never seen the need to learn such a skill to impress anyone else. But now that Brienne had promised to dance with him at the feast, he had no choice but to learn.

As Jaime sat there, thumbing through the gilt-edged pages, there was a knock at the door. Before he could secret the book away, the door opened and Tyrion stepped inside.

"Do you have a minute?"

Jaime sighed, dropping the book to the desk and slumping back in his chair. "I've got more than a minute."

"Oh, good." Tyrion closed the door behind him and crossed the room, stopping on the other side of the desk. "I was wondering, have . . . have you spoken with Brienne lately?"

Jaime's eyes narrowed on Tyrion in suspicion. "Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing really," Tyrion said with a careless wave of his hand. "It's just, I haven't heard from Queen Sansa in more than a moonturn now, and I was wondering if Brienne had said anything."

"You know we hardly talk, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. I just thought— I don't know, I just thought maybe she had said something."

"Well, she hasn't. I'm sorry to disappoint you." Jaime wished that he could allay his brother's fears, but he couldn't. Brienne hadn't said a word about Sansa in weeks.

Tyrion idly toyed with the book Jaime had left on the edge of the desk. "I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake. What if she never speaks to me again?"

It seemed quite clear now that Sansa had asked for Tyrion's opinion regarding her potential suitors in hopes of forcing his hand, and instead of declaring his intention to woo her himself, he had suggested she marry someone unworthy of her. Of course she wasn't sending letters anymore. Why should she?

"I'd hate to even consider such an eventuality," Jaime answered, "and yet, she was writing to you every other day before you suggested she marry Gendry Baratheon."

"I know, I know."

Tyrion opened the book and began casually flipping through the pages, and Jaime's heart instantly froze. The last thing he wanted was for Tyrion to know what he'd been doing before he'd entered the room, but Jaime feared it was only a matter of time before he figured it out.

"I only did what I thought was best for her," Tyrion said. "Gendry is the most eligible bachelor in all the Six Kingdoms. He's tall, conventionally handsome, titled, lord of a great keep, son of a king."

"Everything you're not."

Tyrion stopped turning the pages and stared blankly down at the book, his eyes fixed on an engraving of a line of couples engaged in a basse danse, but clearly not seeing it. "Yes, exactly," he said flatly. "Everything I'm not. He's perfect for her."

Jaime leaned forward and reached across the desk, gingerly slipping the book from beneath Tyrion's hands and pulling it away. He closed it and laid it on the desk beside him. "None of that makes him perfect for her, Tyrion. He's still in love with her sister, and according to Brienne, that is not likely to change anytime soon."

Tyrion continued to stare at the desk as if he hadn't even realized that the book had disappeared. It took him a moment to even move, but finally, he looked up at Jaime again. "If he married Sansa, it would. How could any man be married to such a woman and not fall in love with her? It's impossible."

Jaime fought back a knowing smile. "It only seems impossible to you because you're already in love with her. But I'm sure Gendry feels the same way about Arya Stark. If you were to marry Arya, would you instantly forget about Sansa and fall in love with her sister?"

"Of course not! Don't be absurd."

"Then don't expect Gendry to do it either. He's a man in love, and as such, he cannot control the yearnings of his own heart."

Tyrion stared at Jaime thoughtfully for a moment. "Why do I get the feeling that we're not talking about Gendry Baratheon anymore?"

Jaime snorted, glancing away from Tyrion for a moment, hoping to evade the question. Even though everyone in the Red Keep seemed to know exactly how he felt about Brienne, it wasn't something he wanted to discuss, even with his brother.

When Jaime finally looked at Tyrion again, he said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tyrion dragged his eyes away from Jaime's and looked down at the desk, his attention falling to the book, and Jaime fought the urge to squirm in his chair.

"What is that?" Tyrion asked.

"What is what?"

"That." Tyrion nodded toward the leather bound volume.

Jaime picked it up and shoved it in his desk drawer, his eyes never leaving Tyrion's. "Oh, it's nothing."

Tyrion raised a skeptical brow. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. Just some light reading material."

Tyrion rounded the desk, obviously intent on finding out for himself. "You've never been much of a reader," he said as he reached for the drawer handle.

But Jaime grabbed it first, holding the drawer closed as if his life depended on it. "It's nothing, really."

Tyrion's eyes found Jaime's again, and there was so much suspicion in his gaze that Jaime almost felt guilty. He could see Tyrion's mind working, trying to remember what he had seen in the pages as he'd flipped through them. Tyrion Lannister had one of the most agile minds in all of Westeros, and Jaime knew it wouldn't be long until he sorted it all out.

"Dancing," Tyrion said. "It's a book on dancing."

Jaime stared blankly at Tyrion, unable to even nod his head. He knew he'd been found out, and there was nothing he could do about it. Even a firm denial would get him nowhere where Tyrion was concerned.

A self-satisfied grin slowly spread across Tyrion's face, and he took a step back, shaking his head. "Planning on doing some wooing at the king's feast, are you?"

"It's not like that."

"Oh, isn't it? Why else would you be reading a book about dancing?"

Jaime sighed heavily, finally letting go of the drawer handle and leaning back in his chair. What was the point of trying to pretend? Tyrion clearly knew what he was about, and there would be no convincing him otherwise.

"Fine," Jaime said, "you've found me out. But please, spare me your mockery and ridicule. I know it's a hopeless cause, but Brienne has agreed to grant me a dance at the feast, and—"

"Has she?" Tyrion asked, his tone incredulous.

"Yes, she has. Is it really that difficult to believe?"

"Well, I must admit, I am rather surprised. I thought the two of you were keeping each other at arm's length. I thought there was nothing between you now but small council business."

"There is, but this_ is_ small council business. At least, I'm sure that's how Brienne sees it. Since we both have to attend the feast anyway, we might as well get a dance out of it."

Tyrion laughed, and Jaime felt the blood rush to his cheeks. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to tell Tyrion about Brienne's promise in the first place. He hadn't wanted to suffer Tyrion's ribbing.

"Is that what she told you?" Tyrion asked, his tone laced with amusement. "If it is and you believed her, you're an even bigger fool than I thought."

"And what, pray tell, do you think her motivation is?"

"I think that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard desperately wants to dance with the Master of War and that she's using this as an excuse to do just that." The grin on Tyrion's face widened. "I think you're a great deal closer to your goal than you think, brother, and this only proves it."

"I beg to disagree."

"Disagree all you like, but it doesn't change the fact that Brienne is finally warming up to you, whether you're smart enough to see it or not."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Jaime griped. "I don't know how to dance. I never learned. And if I have to stand up with Brienne and lead her in some court dance, I'm sure to make a mess of it."

"Hence the book."

"Yes, hence the book." Jaime reached into the drawer and pulled it out. He threw it onto the desk so that Tyrion could take a better look. "I'm not a strong reader though, as you know, and even the pictures are little help. I'm afraid it's a lost cause. I'll step all over Brienne's toes, and she'll stab me before we're through the first few movements."

Tyrion laughed again. "Oh, I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"It's that bad. I don't know why I even got my hopes up. I was so excited by the idea of being close to her again, of being given a chance to woo her, that I— Well, it doesn't matter. It won't work, and that's all there is to it."

Tyrion reached for the book, opening it once again and leafing through the pages. "These don't look that difficult," he said. "Surely, if you just follow the other couples and do as they do, you should be fine."

"If it's that easy, why have I never seen you dance?"

Tyrion dropped the book as if it had bitten him. "Gods forbid! Could you imagine me, the Imp of Casterly Rock, trying to keep up with all those people, trying to keep form? Oh, no, no, no, brother. That would never do. But you? You're tall and handsome, and every woman there will want to dance with you."

"What? With me and my one hand?" he asked, holding up his stump to illustrate.

"You're a great swordsman, even with one hand, and your body is lithe and graceful, whereas mine is squat and clumsy. You actually have a chance of sweeping your lady love off her feet. Don't throw it away just because you've grown fond of feeling sorry for yourself."

Jaime lowered his arm. "I could say the same thing to you."

"Well, don't. I have no intention of listening. That ship has already sailed, and it's crashed upon northern shores, never to see safe harbor again. But you, Jaime, you have a chance, and I refuse to let you waste it."

"The feast is in a few short weeks. There's no way I'm going to learn any of those dances by then. I'll just have to content myself with watching other men vie for Brienne's favor while I sit in the trenches."

Tyrion's brow furrowed as he stared up at Jaime. "You really do think she's the most desirable woman in all of Westeros, don't you?"

"I do. I know that you may not see it. I know that most other men may not see it. But I see it, and I can't help but think that the day will come when someone else will capture her heart."

Tyrion chuckled. "Like who? Tormund Giantsbane?"

Jaime scowled, but he refused to answer such an offensive question. "The point is, unless I can make some sense of that blasted book, I won't be dancing with Brienne or anyone else at the feast."

Tyrion closed the book and picked it up from the desk. He held it in his hands thoughtfully for a moment. "Maybe you don't need a book," he said, finally looking up at Jaime again. "Maybe you need something else."

Jaime didn't like the look in Tyrion's eyes. It was clear that he was scheming, and that was a very dangerous thing.

Against his better judgment, Jaime asked, "Something else? Like what?"

"Oh, just something a little more practical, that's all."

"Tyrion," Jaime warned in a low voice.

"What? Don't you trust me?"

"Not in the least."

"Well, you'd better start. If you're to have any hope of winning Brienne back, you're going to need all the help you can get."


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one

A week later, Brienne rode through the gates of the Red Keep, returning from a routine mission into the city. Bran had insisted upon visiting the Great Sept of Baelor to oversee its reconstruction, and the entire Kingsguard had accompanied him. Everywhere they'd passed, people had hidden quietly in their shops and homes, peering through windows or out doorways, eager to catch a glimpse of the new king, but also wary of him. Although Bran was from an ancient and noble house, rumors of his powers swirled throughout the capital, and people were afraid. But then, the citizens of King's Landing were so used to being terrorized by whoever sat on the throne that they expected no less from Bran. It had been more than half a year since he'd been crowned king, and the people were still waiting for him to turn on them.

As Brienne made her way through the main yard, she caught sight of Jaime about thirty feet away. He was sitting high atop his horse, his shoulders back, his armor glinting in the late afternoon sun. He looked magnificent as he addressed the small company of infantry before him. He made a marvelous Master of War. Rather than merely sitting in the small council chamber, day after day, sending orders to men whose names he didn't even know, he went out amongst his ranks, teaching them, inspiring them. It was as if he had been born to the position, and for the first time since his appointment, Brienne was glad that Jaime Lannister had been made Master of War.

Jaime must have felt her watching him because he turned his head in her direction, and their eyes suddenly met. Brienne was tempted to look away, but she simply couldn't move. Jaime smiled at her softly, his eyes lighting up the instant he saw her, and it took her breath away. It had been more than a moonturn since she'd given him that ridiculous challenge to prove himself. She'd regretted it not long after, being sorry that she'd gotten caught up in the moment. But since that day, Jaime had not spoken a single word of love to her. Everything between them had been strictly professional, and Brienne was starting to miss the intimacy that Tyrion had forced upon them.

Brienne wanted to smile back at Jaime, but they were surrounded by people and she didn't want to look foolish or give Jaime the wrong idea. Instead, she simply nodded at him in acknowledgment and then turned and continued on toward the keep, Podrick by her side.

"He really has done an admirable job, hasn't he?" Podrick said as they trotted through the yard.

"He has." Brienne couldn't even deny it.

"I suppose Lord Tyrion knew what he was doing when he appointed Lord Jaime Master of War. And we all thought he was just meddling."

"Yes," Brienne replied tightly. She knew Podrick was just making idle conversation, but it was starting to get a little too personal.

"You know, I've always liked Lord Jaime, even back in the old days. If it weren't for him, I don't know what would have happened to me after Lord Tyrion was arrested for the king's murder. Who knows? Had Lord Jaime not sent me to be your squire, I might have been arrested and tortured after Lord Tyrion escaped."

Brienne brought her horse to a halt, and Podrick pulled up on his reins, stopping beside her. She turned and looked at him pointedly. "Just what are you getting at, Pod?"

He fidgeted in his saddle. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"I mean, why are you suddenly singing Lord Jaime's praises. Has Lord Tyrion put you up to it?"

"No, my lady. It's just . . . well, Lord Jaime has been here for more than a month now, and I think he's gone a long way toward proving himself, don't you? He's been nothing but kind to me, and to you, from what I can tell. And he's done everything the king and Lord Tyrion have asked of him. I think, perhaps, he really is trying to make amends for the past. And I think, maybe, we should all give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Oh, do you?"

"Yes, my lady," Podrick answered, his tone less than certain.

Brienne didn't have anything else to say on the matter. She feared if they talked much longer, Podrick would say something that would truly annoy her, and she'd been having such a nice day. She didn't want to spoil it.

Brienne turned her attention back to her horse and urged it forward. Together, she and Podrick headed toward the stables, not another word spoken between them.

* * *

After returning to the Red Keep, Brienne spent several hours in her private chambers, replying to correspondence and planning out assignments for her men for the remainder of the week. Among the letters she had received that morning was one from Queen Sansa. Sansa had not taken Tyrion's suggestion regarding Gendry Baratheon at all well and had since stopped writing to Tyrion altogether. Sansa had adamantly rejected the idea of marrying Lord Gendry, and Brienne couldn't blame her. Brienne knew all too well what it was like to be with a man whose heart belonged to another. It was one of the Seven Hells, though she wasn't quite sure which one.

Sansa was still struggling with how to deal with the northern lords and their insistence that she wed, but she was done taking advice from Tyrion Lannister. All Brienne could do was offer her words of understanding and encouragement and pray to the gods that Sansa found a man who was worthy of her before she was forced to settle for less.

Once the last of her work was done, Brienne leaned back in her chair and stared out into the room, the events of the day filtering through her mind as she examined them one by one. No matter what else had happened that day, the one thing she couldn't forget was Jaime, the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd smiled at her. Even now, the blood warmed in her veins at the memory. She knew he was sorry for everything he'd done, knew that his intentions had been honorable—or at least, he'd believed that his intentions had been honorable—and she was finally starting to warm up to the idea that maybe, just maybe, there could be something between them again.

Brienne's heart skipped a beat, and she inhaled a long, slow breath, trying to calm the excitement coursing through her body. Her nerves were humming beneath her skin, and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she sought Jaime out at that very moment. Had he already retired for the afternoon? Was he in his own chamber now, stripping out of his clothes after a long day in the warm spring sun, his skin glistening with sweat, his muscles flexing beneath his flesh as he trailed his hand over his body, washing himself clean?

Brienne shifted in her chair, an all too familiar ache settling between her legs. It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to think of Jaime Lannister in such a way, but now, she couldn't seem to stop herself. Her heart beat faster and her breath grew shallow as her mind wandered across the keep to the small chamber Jaime inhabited in the Tower of the Hand. Brienne wondered what would happen if she visited there now. Would Jaime be shocked to see her? Would he send her away? Brienne had no idea what Jaime was thinking or feeling at that moment, but she was suddenly tempted to find out.

Without allowing herself a chance to reconsider, Brienne rose from her chair and headed toward the Tower of the Hand. Her pulse raced as she walked the corridors, wondering just what the hell she thought she was doing. Although Brienne was a knight, although she had always been bold in battle, she had never been bold in matters of the heart. She'd always been timid, almost afraid, but now, she was being courageous, taking charge of her own life without waiting for someone else to do it for her. She was going to see Jaime in his bedchamber, by herself, without any good reason for doing so other than the fact that she desperately wanted to be alone with him again.

It wasn't long before Brienne reached Jaime's door, her heart beating wildly beneath her ribs. She paused for a moment, trying to summon up the courage to knock, when an unexpected sound carried to her through the closed door. It was a soft sound, unexpected but far too familiar. It was laughter. A woman's laughter. And a cold shock flushed the length of Brienne's entire body.

"No, not like that, my lord," the sweet, feminine voice floated beyond the door. "Like this."

All the blood rushed to Brienne's face, and for a moment, her vision failed her and everything went hazy. Jaime had a woman in his chamber, and there could be only one reason for it. Brienne felt like such a fool. She had waited too long, held her grudge too long, and now, Jaime was with someone else and things could never go back to the way they once had been.

Another laugh drifted out into the hallway, and Brienne resolved to run, but her legs simply refused to work. She stood there, her whole body trembling, staring at the closed door, listening to Jaime and his new lover talk to each other within the intimate confines of his bedchamber.

"Like this?" Jaime asked, his voice almost uncertain.

"Oh, yes, just like that," his lady sighed.

Instinctively, Brienne's hand reached for the hilt of her sword, her fingers wrapping around it as they always did when she was trying to ground herself. But today, even Oathkeeper could offer her no comfort. She understood that men had needs, and that Jaime was just like any other man, but she'd thought he would wait for her. She had honestly started to believe that his love for her was true and that he would remain faithful. But clearly, she'd been wrong.

Brienne strengthened her hold on Oathkeeper and forced herself to turn around, her fingers gripping the hilt so tightly that the scabbard angled upward, and when she turned, it hit the door, making a dull knocking sound.

Brienne froze. The room behind her had suddenly gone quiet, and she was afraid she was about to be discovered. She didn't have the energy or the wherewithal to run. She feared if she tried to take even a single step forward, her legs would buckle beneath her and she'd collapse to the floor.

Slowly, Brienne turned her head and looked over her shoulder, her eyes transfixed on the door as she waited for something to happen. A moment later, the door creaked open and Jaime peered around the edge. His eyes went wide when he saw Brienne.

"My . . . my lady," he nearly stumbled over the words. "I mean, Lord Commander. Is there something I can do for you?"

Brienne turned around to face him. She knew her cheeks were red and there were tears in her eyes, but she faced him all the same because she was no coward. "I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't realize that you had company."

"Company?" He said it as if he didn't quite understand the meaning of the word. Brienne knew he was flustered because he'd been caught, but she had expected him to handle the situation with a bit more grace than that.

"Yes, company. I didn't realize that you were entertaining a lady in your room. Even Lord Bronn has the decency not to bring his whores to the Red Keep."

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked like he was trying to come up with a plausible excuse, but Brienne refused to even give him the opportunity.

"No need to explain," she said, preempting whatever it was he'd been intending to say. "I understand how things are. It's been more than a month since you've been back in King's Landing, and obviously, since you couldn't get what you wanted from me, you decided to get it from somebody else."

"It's not like that," Jaime replied, finally finding his voice.

"As I said, you don't owe me an explanation. I'm not your wife. Or your sister."

Jaime flinched, but Brienne wasn't the least bit sorry. She was furious with him. He had betrayed her trust, yet again, and she knew she'd never be able to forgive him for it.

"If you would excuse me, Lord Jaime," Brienne said haughtily, "I will leave you to your latest conquest."

Brienne turned on her heel and headed toward the White Sword Tower. She didn't take more than two steps before Jaime called after her.

"Brienne, wait!"

Brienne heard footsteps behind her, but she refused to stop. Before she could round the corner, Jaime reached out for her, wrapping his hand around her elbow and stopping her cold.

Brienne whipped around, trying to shrug out of his grip. "Unhand me, my lord! You have no right to touch me."

Jaime let her go, dropping his hand as if he'd been burned. "You're right. I'm sorry, Brienne."

"And don't call me that. You don't have a right to call me that. You may call me _Lord Commander_, that is all."

"Lord Commander, I need a word with you. I need to explain."

"I don't want an explanation. I don't want anything from you."

"It's just that Tyrion—"

Brienne held up a hand, instantly silencing him. "Enough. I'm sure that whatever is going on here is the direct result of your brother's interference, but that doesn't mean you had to go along with it. That doesn't mean you had to take another woman into your bed. You're a grown man, Jaime Lannister—at least, you're supposed to be—and you're responsible for all your own bad decisions, not your brother. Blame Tyrion all you like, but the fault is yours and yours alone."

"I swear to you, Brienne, it's not what you think."

Brienne glared at him the second her name passed his lips. She opened her mouth to say something biting and cruel when something behind him caught her eye.

Brienne refocused her gaze over Jaime's shoulder, finding a beautiful young woman with long golden hair leaning lazily against the open doorframe. Although the woman was fully dressed, her bodice was cut low and her skirt was hiked up over one thigh, leaving very little to the imagination. She had an amused grin on her painted lips, and just the sight of her made Brienne ill.

The woman's smile broadened when she caught Brienne watching her, and Brienne tore her eyes away in disgust. Without another word, she turned around and stormed out of the tower. Jaime continued to call after her, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two

Jaime just stood there, staring after Brienne, fighting the urge to go after her. She was furiously angry, and he knew that nothing he said or did would appease her at that moment. If he followed her, he was likely to get a broken nose, or worse. She had told him that she didn't want to hear his excuses, but he hated leaving her in such a tumultuous state. If only he'd been able to explain himself instead of stammering like a fool, he might have quelled her fury before it had even ignited.

"She's not quite what I expected," said a sultry voice behind him, "but then, there's really no accounting for taste."

Every muscle in Jaime's body tightened. He hadn't realized that they'd had an audience, and he hated himself for allowing a stranger to spy on such a private moment. He hated Tyrion too, for orchestrating the whole damned thing, but that was another matter entirely.

Jaime slowly turned around, finally facing the woman standing in the doorway. She looked mildly amused, and he didn't appreciate it in the least.

"Don't worry so much," she said, pushing herself away from the door and taking a step forward. "A little bit of jealousy never hurt anyone."

"I didn't do this to make her jealous."

The girl tilted her head to the side, eyeing Jaime skeptically. "Really now?"

"Yes, really. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt Brienne, but no matter how hard I try to make things better, I only seem to make everything worse."

"Ah, so the Lord Hand was right. You do have it bad, don't you?"

"Fuck the Lord Hand."

The girl giggled. "I would if I could. I've heard he had quite the reputation back in the day. The stories some of the girls tell . . ." She sighed wistfully.

Jaime rolled his eyes heavenward. "I think I've had enough for one day. You may go now."

"Oh, but I haven't given you the full hour."

Jaime raised a brow at that. The girl was a whore from one of the local brothels. He was surprised that she wasn't just happy to take the money Tyrion had given her and be on her way. "You've done your job," Jaime said. "You may go, and you need not return."

"But I didn't even show you the best part."

Jaime narrowed his eyes on her, annoyed by her reluctance to leave. He understood that what had been asked of her had been unusual, and that women generally found him charming, but he was still baffled by her desire to spend out the hour with him.

"If you want to stay in my chamber until the hour is up, you may," he said, "but I will not be staying with you." And then, before she could say another word, he turned around and went in search of his brother, intent on giving him a piece of his mind.

Jaime found Tyrion in what was left of the royal gardens, standing beside one of the walls overlooking Blackwater Bay. Tyrion was often eager to escape the halls of the Red Keep and brood in the fresh, open air. He'd grown moody in his old age, no doubt a result of living like a septon and pining after a woman he could never have.

As Jaime approached, Tyrion turned to look up at him. "How did your dance lesson go?"

Jaime skewered Tyrion with his eyes. "Fuck you."

"Oh, that well?" Tyrion chuckled. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should have sent a brunette this time. I know how blondes rankle you."

Jaime reached the wall, stopping beside his brother and staring out at the choppy waters crashing against the shore. "Brienne came to my chamber while the girl was still there."

"Did she really?"

"Yes. And of course she thought the worst, because why shouldn't she?"

"And did you explain things to her?"

"She didn't give me a chance."

Tyrion laughed again. "What is it about Brienne of Tarth that so often renders you tongue-tied, brother? Away from her, you're one of the most accomplished, capable knights in all the king's forces. But when you're around Brienne, you're a blithering fool. Especially when you feel guilty for something."

Jaime cast a sidelong glance at Tyrion. "I don't feel guilty. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I just didn't expect Brienne to find us like that, and by the time I recovered from the shock, it was too late for me to explain."

"You've always been an idiot when it comes to love, haven't you?"

"You're one to talk."

"I didn't say I wasn't just as guilty. I was simply stating a fact."

Jaime sighed, resting his forearms on top of the wall and leaning down against it. "I've hurt her again."

"I'm sure you have."

"What am I going to do?"

"Find her and make it right?"

Jaime shook his head. "She'll run her sword right through me. I know she will."

"Well, that's just the chance you're going to have to take, isn't it?"

"You think I'm joking."

"I know you're not joking," Tyrion replied, his voice deathly serious. "But the longer you let her go on believing that you betrayed her, the worse things are going to get. Wherever she is now, you need to hunt her down and make her listen to the truth. You shouldn't be wasting your time talking to me. You should be talking to Brienne."

Although Jaime couldn't argue with Tyrion's reasoning, he was afraid that there was nothing he could say that would pacify Brienne. He was fairly certain that if she even laid eyes on him again, it would be the last time he drew breath.

"You know," Tyrion said thoughtfully, "if you're really concerned about her running you through with her sword, you could always challenge her to single combat in the training yard."

Jaime's heart froze, and he turned to stare down at Tyrion in disbelief. "Are you mad? Even with my right hand still intact, she was a better swordsman than I ever was. She'll literally cut me in two."

"Maybe. But don't you think it's worth the risk? Do you want Brienne to listen to you or not?"

"Of course I do, but—"

"And do you want her to respect you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then what other choice do you have? Go," Tyrion said. "Find her. Offer to let her take out her frustrations on you in the yard. If you survive, you'll be that much closer to winning her back."

"And why should I listen to you?" Jaime asked. "You obviously don't know as much about women as you think you do."

"True, but I still know more about them than you."

Jaime eyed Tyrion doubtfully.

"Look," Tyrion said, "if you're fine with losing Brienne, then don't go. If you're fine with her hating you for the rest of your life, you might as well go bed that whore I sent you right now. But if you want to fix this, if you want to make things right, you have to do it. You know you do. So stop being a fucking coward and go after her already."

Tyrion was right. Jaime hated to admit it, but he knew it was true. He was being a coward. He had gone in search of Tyrion because he'd been too afraid to face Brienne. But he had to face her. He had to fix the damage he'd done.

"All right," Jaime said. "I'll do it, though perhaps you and I should say our goodbyes again now, dear brother, because I cannot promise that I will live to see another day."

Tyrion laughed. "You'll be fine. Brienne loves you too much to kill you. I have no doubt that we'll meet again. In fact, I'm so certain of it that I will make sure that my servants set a place for you at my table tonight."

"And if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong. Now go!"

Jaime reluctantly turned away from Tyrion and headed back toward the keep, the blood racing through his veins. He knew he was walking into danger, knew that Brienne had no desire to see him or hear anything he had to say, but he had no choice. He had to find her. He had to explain.

Jaime went straight to the White Sword Tower, knowing that was the likeliest place for Brienne to be. He hurried to her chamber, eager to find her as quickly as possible. He had already wasted enough time, and he didn't want to waste a second more.

When Jaime finally reached Brienne's door, he stopped for a moment, trying to summon up the courage to knock. He knew he had wounded her deeply, and he had to try to make things right, even if he ended up with a sword through his heart.

Jaime raised his hand to the door, his fingers trembling. He forced himself to knock, then waited, unbreathing, for Brienne to answer. He counted the seconds with the beating of his own heart. _One, two, three, four. _

Jaime heard footsteps inside the room. Heavy, angry footsteps. They moved closer, then suddenly stopped.

"Who's there?" Brienne asked, her voice harsh, harried, as if she was trying very hard not to scream at whoever had disturbed her peace.

"It's me," Jaime said softly, the sound little more than a whisper.

"Go away."

"I can't. I came here to give you something."

"I don't want anything from you."

"Not even the chance to best me in single combat, to cut me down in the yard and bring me to my knees?"

There was silence on the other side of the door. For a moment, Jaime thought Brienne wasn't going to answer, but finally, she said, "Why would I even bother? You've already proven you're a cad. I don't have to best you in combat to prove anything else."

"But you might enjoy it. After all, what could be better than striking me down in public?"

Another long silence passed, but then, Brienne opened the door. Her eyes were clearer now than they had been before, but her face was red and puffy, and it was obvious that she'd been crying.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked. "I might kill you."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

Brienne stared at him for a moment, her eyes boring into his soul. He could see her warring with herself, trying to decide if she was willing to take that same chance. But when she finally spoke, her words surprised him. "Why did you do it?" she asked. "Why, after everything you've said and done, why did you do it?"

"I didn't."

"Don't insult me."

"I'm not trying to insult you. That girl you saw in my room—"

"She was a whore."

"Yes, yes, she was," Jaime conceded. "But she wasn't there to service me, she was there to give me dance lessons."

Brienne's eyes narrowed on him, and rather than feeling intimidated by her scrutiny, Jaime felt slightly relieved. He could see that she was at least listening to what he had to say, and that was more than he had expected.

"Dance lessons?" Brienne asked, her tone heavy with suspicion.

"You did say that you would dance with me at the king's feast, or had you forgotten?"

Brienne scowled at the reminder. "Don't you already know how to dance?"

"I wish I did. But from earliest memory, I had my sights set on being a knight, not wooing fair maidens, so I never bothered to learn." He purposefully made no mention of Cersei, knowing that it would do nothing to further his cause.

"You could have just told me that in the first place," Brienne said levelly.

"To be honest, I was a bit embarrassed about it, and Tyrion thought—"

"Why the hell do you listen to Tyrion? Ever? Your brother may be the Hand of the King, but he's also an idiot, especially when it comes to women."

"Yes, I know. And he freely admits it. And I'm an idiot too. I'm sorry, Brienne."

The anger had gone out of Brienne's eyes, and she stared at Jaime in quiet contemplation. He could tell that she wanted to say something, but she was holding back.

When she just continued to stare at him, he asked, "What is it?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

Jaime had thought they had already settled the matter, but he knew he had to tread carefully, lest he lose the ground he'd already gained. "No, I did not."

A short sigh escaped Brienne's throat, and she seemed to relax just a little. She was no longer on high alert, no longer ready to slice him in two, and for that, Jaime was grateful.

"Can I still fight you in the yard?" she asked.

Jaime laughed. "Of course. I would like nothing more than to be bested by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard in single combat. I would consider it an honor."

"In that case, I shall join you anon. I just have to get my sword."

Jaime was sure that Brienne needed the time to do more than just collect her sword. No doubt, she needed a moment to compose herself in private, to wash her face and dry her tears.

Jaime simply nodded. "As you wish. I shall wait for you in the training yard."

Brienne nodded as well and then took a step back into the room. Her eyes lingered on Jaime a moment longer before she finally closed the door.

Jaime sighed in relief, glad that things had gone so well. Brienne wasn't angry with him anymore, and he was thankful for that. He just wished he hadn't hurt her in the first place.


End file.
